#like they heard the rumors or something and thought it was worth a shot picking up a bot who looks reasonable enough

[quibbs126]

I had another thought with that one megop sparkling idea I keep bringing up but never fully committing to because I can’t decide on any one idea and at this rate I think I’m just annoying people

But yeah, I had another thought, one that I just thought was funny. I want to draw it out, but I’m lazy and also I have a test tomorrow that I have to study for, so I’m not doing it now. But I’m also impatient, so I’m giving you the bullet points/written version. If I’m sensible, I’ll take this post down after I finish the actual thing so I’m not too repetitive

Anyways, so there’s the kid, who is the child of the two leaders of the Autobot and Decepticon factions, and thus, potentially, holds a lot of value as a hostage and bargaining chip. Granted, I don’t know how known they actually are, there might just be a rumor going around that the two leaders have a secret kid somewhere

But anyways, someone (I don’t know who) gets the idea to capitalize on this, and afterwards calls up Optimus and Megatron, who are up to their usual things, claiming they have taken their sparkling captive and want some demands or other if the two ever want to see them again

Now both of them are very confused by this turn of events. Optimus has no goddamn clue what this guy’s talking about, because he’s pretty sure he knows the two of them definitely don’t have a sparkling. Megatron meanwhile does know they definitely had a sparkling, but he’s cycling through his head the possibilities of if this guy’s telling the truth. Because he was pretty sure no one knew about them, how did this person find out? How many people know? Do they really have their sparkling or is it just a trap to kill them? Or is it some idiot claiming this status, while probably not being aware there is a genuine one out there? Or did they just pick up an innocent bot who just happens to kind of look like them? How close is his secret to getting out, especially to Optimus?

But yeah basically meanwhile, while Megatron is somewhat internally panicking and trying to assess the most likely severity of this situation, Optimus is just like, “…I have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about, Megatron and I don’t have a sparkling, isn’t that right Megatron?”, thinking Megatron is on the same page of this being absolutely absurd as him

But because Megatron is thinking and stopped paying much attention, he doesn’t answer at all. And the silence goes on long enough that it’s getting questionable, especially since Megatron isn’t jumping in to defend his own honor that he did not have a baby with his sworn enemy. His silence is starting to become an admission, and the possibility of this actually being legit is starting to freak Optimus out, because again, he doesn’t know about any of this

Okay explaining it out loud does not bring out the comedy the situation is supposed to have. Probably because there’s no visuals and my description of the narrative rather than just dialogue. So like, the comedy doesn’t happen like it’s supposed to, this isn’t the format for the joke. But the image is funny in my head, okay?

I’ll make the picture either tomorrow or Friday or something, since I have things to do tomorrow. I was just trying to explain it so that you could understand my vision before I can make it

[nocturnalserenade]

Midnight Man

@senshixshitennouweeks This is my (very late im super sorry!!) second entry to the Rei x Jadeite week of last year. Prompt was "Recognition". It's kind of a re-write, or rather an 'expansion'?, of episode 3 of Sailor Moon classic, the one where Jadeite hijacks a radio station, but from Rei's perspective. Inspired by: sm episode 3 obviously, the manga, and this song. Enjoy! (AO3 link)

The day had come to an end.

Finally.

Rei took a deep sigh after closing the shoji screen of her room behind her. She couldn’t wait to slip under the covers and just be done with it. That had been a weird day, for sure. Not tiring or particularly busy, just… weird. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was that had disturbed her peace of mind; even her meditation didn’t go as well as usual and she somehow found herself continuously distracted; maybe it was all the fault of the nonstop chatter at school about that new late-night radio show. She didn’t catch a lot about it except that it was some kind of romantic program and it involved love letters. And that had been more than enough to irritate her greatly. Why in the world were so many girls at her school suddenly so invested in some random, superficial, romantic show?

Well, it was surprising, but not entirely implausible.

Even though the T.A. Academy was a very austere and strict environment, where girls had virtually no time nor incentive to dwell on frivolous things such as talks of romance, sentimental gossip and the likes, she knew her classmates were not immune to that altogether. She had occasionally overheard excited, secretive whispers in the hallways, accompanied by nervous giggles and flustered faces. There had been fleeting rumors about girls having some kind of secret relationship inside the school, right under the nuns’ noses. And one time, a girl was found in possession of a novel that wasn’t exactly… innocent. She had to spend a few hours in the punishment room waiting for her parents to come and then endure a probably embarrassing lecture from them and the nuns. All the girls had talked about it for days.

But this was different. She had heard about the damned radio show three times already, from different groups of girls, all in a single day. With a little too much enthusiasm for her liking too, and very little effort to conceal it. What in the world might even be the deal? It was just a stupid radio show. She sighed, and quickly changed into her night robes.

Except she was curious.

She shot a suspicious look at the radio in front of her bed. Maybe I should check just to see what the fuss is all about. She pursed her lips, pondering the idea. Her senses were strangely alert, like when an imminent danger is near; there was probably something behind this that was worth the bother to discover. Something nasty. Maybe it was a big scam. A scam made to prey on naive girls with their heads filled with romantic bullshit.

Yes. She hated the thought enough that she finally decided to momentarily leave the comfort of her bedsheets to go and pick up the radio from the shelf and put it on her nightstand, near her bed.

She turned it on.

Fidgeting with the dial to find the correct frequency, she stopped when the buzzing of the static softly melted into a smooth jazzy melody. Her hand froze, still on the dial, as a voice broke through the music, low and sultry.

“I want to see you. I want to see you one more time,” the voice pleaded, suddenly filling the room, almost startling her. It took her a moment to recollect herself, and realize that she had in fact found the right program, and that it was likely the host that she was listening to. Reading through what was undoubtedly a passionate love letter. Yes, he was just reading a letter, nothing more.

But damn.

The man sure knew how to use his voice, she mentally conceded, quite bitterly. For a cheap radio show, there was no denying that the host was putting quite the effort into making it sound almost believable. Almost. She crossed her arms and slightly lifted her chin, determined to keep listening, but with renewed defiance.

“If only you knew how much I regret our parting…” he continued, and she quickly found herself completely unable to move as she listened, barely breathing. “I still think of you every day, every night, wishing I could still see your smile, wishing I could hold you in my arms… close to me… closer than we’d ever been before”

With a sharp breath, Rei adjusted herself on the bed, shifting her position to distance herself just a bit from the radio. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t understand why. She did expect something incredibly corny, maybe even embarrassing to listen to. But this was having a completely unexpected effect on her. For a silly radio show, and one that she had never even listened to once before, something about it felt… too personal somehow. Was it because of the words? Unlikely. She never was particularly susceptible to cheesy romantic talk. On the contrary. Was it the voice? Sure, the host was extremely good at conveying the feelings of what he was reading and making it feel real. But Rei knew she was better than that. She was above falling for such insidious little traps. She sighed, then closed her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering sensation and focus instead on understanding why that voice was evoking such a strong reaction. There had to be a logical reason for that, a serious reason; she just had to concentrate harder.

Breathe Rei, breathe.

(Keep reading on AO3 as it turned out a bit too long to post all on tumblr)

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

beautiful undone

REQUEST: Hi! I have an idea. What if the reader was someone who heard tales of "Monstrous Brienne" or as she was mockingly called, "Brienne the Beauty". But when she finally puts a face to the name, she's all "Huh, she doesn't look that bad. She's actually quite handsome." Then decides to give Brienne a makeover to prove everyone wrong. Like longer styled hair, makeup, fitting dress, and even posture and smile. Like total Princess Diaries. Then when she's done people are all like" Who is this Goddess?!?!"

WORD COUNT: 3309 words

[Every time I try to make something a small one-shot, it ends up being longer than the previous one. oOOP- Anyway, enjoy <3]

Had you been deceived or had you been so stupidly foolish to listen to the harsh whispers in the street of the dreaded Brienne of Tarth? How they spoke of her as though she were a beast. 'Beware the Monstrous Brienne! She's a half-giant! If you anger her, she'll tear you apart.' or 'Brienne the Beauty! You'd scream at the sight of her.' There was not a person in Westeros who had ever said anything pleasant of the woman; it only made sense that the sayings were true. Whenever you walked in the streets, you would keep an eye out for her. You had always wanted to see her for you wondered how a lady could stir such a reputation for herself.

It was on a faithful day when you bumped into her at the marketplace. She was unmistakable. A tall looming woman clad in armor picking fruits for herself at a stall. You knew it was her from her height, one of a supposed half-giant as people said, and from the insults thrown at her. She was not bothered in the slightest by the yells and screams, but she turned to look at you when you found yourself suddenly right next to her. Your feet had carried you to her side to gawk and stare, wonder glimmering in your eyes.

The woman standing in front of you was unlike anyone you had ever seen. The monstrosity everyone saw in her simply did not exist. Beautiful was one way to describe her but a better term you might use was handsome. She was an incredibly handsome lady, and you were far too baffled to speak nor hear when she tried to talk to you.

"May I help you?" It was her third time repeating herself, and her patience was slowly running thin.

Snapping out of your daze, you offered your best smile. "I apologize if I'm interrupting your day but I just wanted to meet you."

"Meet me?" she questioned. "What for?"

"I was curious. I've only ever heard about you," you admitted, and you saw how her face twisted.

"I see," she muttered. "Now that you have, we can get on with our lives." With that, she turned away and you felt your stomach turn. The rumors. What a horrible impression to turn up with.

Before she could walk away, you scampered to her, struggling to keep up with her pace. "No, wait! I apologize if it came off as offensive. I didn't mean for it to sound like I believed the rumors!"

"I understand," she spoke stiffly, not quite breaking her stride.

"No, you don't. Will you let me explain myself?"

"There's no need for that, thank you very much. I must be on my way, and you should too."

"But Ser-!"

"Goodbye."

Picking up your legs, you managed to get in her way, arms spread out to stop her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at you incredulously. If there was one thing to fear about Brienne of Tarth, it was the intensity of her glare. You could feel your heart starting to race in your chest, but you held your ground. If she was not going to listen to an apology, you had to think of something else close to it. You could not let her go with the thought that you were just another person out of thousands who wished to make a mockery of her. But what could be worth more than an apology?

"Will you just hear me out?"

"I already am, so you had better use this time wisely, young one."

"I want to dress you." The words came out faster than your mind ran, but you were confident. Your family dabbled in tailoring, and your sense of style came from observations among the crowds at events. If anything, observation was your strongest weapon and you intended to use it if the lady would allow you to.

Her glare did not waver but there was a brief moment of conflict in her gaze. "And why would I allow you?"

"In all honesty, I don't know. Maybe I want to prove people wrong about you because now I know that everyone's spreading bullshit about you," you admitted.

That was when her features softened, but she was still wary of you. "If you're going to parade me in a dress in front of everyone, you can forget it."

"I don't just shove people into a dress," you interjected. "I make sure it's right for them. You don't fit people into a dress. You fit the dress onto them."

Brienne was slightly taken aback but she was listening properly. "You seem to know what you're talking about."

"My family runs one of the tailor shops. I don't do the sewing but I certainly know how to find a person's style."

Silence passed over the two of you as Brienne spared some time to consider your offer. With the way she had frozen in a pose to think, you could already picture the perfect look for her. A hand on her hip, the other holding onto a basket of fruits, her frame tall and proud. You wanted nothing more than to show everyone that Brienne was no beast of a woman. People always talked. They loved their gossip more than anything and though it was not in your power to stop them, you could put a halt to it by making a statement instead.

You waited in anticipation, your nerves flaring by the minute. Denying you was the worst scenario and you could be on your way but you knew the thought of her would never leave you. No one ever spoke of her inability to carry out her duties, but no one ever gave her the credit she deserved either. You had to do something.

Finally coming to a conclusion, she looked at you sternly. "There's a small celebration coming soon, as you may know..."

"The Winter Solstice, yes."

Brienne nodded. "The Longest Night. You can do it then."

"I'd be honored to."

"It's in a week. Will that be enough time for you to prepare?"

"Of course. We happen to be very efficient," you grinned at her. "I will ask, is there anything I must know before I start designing?"

"Nothing pink and frilly," she answered a little too quickly, but you made sure to take note of it. "Will you run the designs by me?"

"You'll have to see during the fitting." You were already scribbling away at a scrap of parchment you had brought with you.

"And what if I don't fancy the dress you've made?" Brienne prodded.

"Then you'll have to give us your feedback to make necessary changes."

She raised a brow. "Will it not delay us?"

"Not at all. You can come early. Perhaps noon. It will give us more than enough time to prepare you." When you looked up from your notes, Brienne was merely a few inches away from you, eyes bearing into yours. A trial of trust.

"Then I'll see you at noon," she spoke slowly. "I look forward to seeing your work."

"Don't be late."

"You humor me, young one. I will have transport sent for you so don't be late."

"Will you let me do your hair too?"

A pause. "Fine."

You saluted playfully as you stepped out of her way. Much to your surprise, she bowed to you and went on her way. Pausing midway, she turned around, a sudden realization dawning on her.

"I didn't get your name."

"I quite like 'young one'."

Taken aback, she nodded slightly. "If that is what you insist."

Bowing once more, she turned on her heel and proceeded on her way. You observed how she walked with a certain elegance to her. Had it not been for the armor, she would be a little less stiff. It would be liberating to get the weight off her, you could only imagine. No corset then, or any sort of rigid support. You scribbled the notes onto your scrap.

You watched as she disappeared into the crowd, and the bubbling excitement that had been blossoming inside of you exploded. You did not realize how stunned you were by her natural beauty. Without a woman's conventional use of make-up, she was still a sight for sore eyes, and you may well pass out knowing what wonders a bit of make-up could do for her. Her hair was another exciting part to think about. Slicked back or messy tendrils, she could wear any look and it would still go with what you already had in your mind. The thrill was exhilarating and you rushed home to get started on it.

Having consulted your parents, you began your masterpiece with their guidance. They would be the ones making the dress so they followed you through each step of the way. As for the other details that came with it, you knew enough people who could be of assistance. No one questioned who the dress was for which made the job easier throughout the week. Whenever someone dared, privacy was the golden answer.

Day and night, you toiled away with needle and thread, running on a few hours of sleep. Somehow, you could still work your magic. With assistance from your family, your project was soon complete in just a few days, leaving two days to spare to run through the details and consider last minute ideas. You had to find some way to occupy your time while you waited for the knight's visit or you might crash with all the energy coursing through you. But thankfully, the day came quick.

Now, had it been energy keeping you awake or anxiety? You could not tell, but you had not a moment to think about it for the carriage was already waiting for you outside. The ride to the castle was pleasant but your stomach was turning. It did not take long until you arrived and a guard led you straight to the lady's quarters.

A knock on the door and you were welcomed inside. Today, Brienne had decided on a casual outfit instead of donning her armor. Her hair was slicked back but there were a few stray strands over her eyes. She studied the shop with such elegance, it made you feel rather small to be in the presence of someone so majestic.

A cough was what caught her attention as you forced down the last of your worries and she greeted you with concern. "Are you alright?"

You waved a hand at her. "I'm alright, I'm alright." With that out of the way, you graced her with a smile. "I'm here!"

"That you are."

"Shall we get started?" you beamed. "I won't keep you waiting any longer." Motioning for her to follow you, you trotted into another room with the knight at your heels.

Her quarters were simple. Not bare but well decorated enough to be cozy. Simplistic was certainly Brienne's own preference, and you found that it gave you room to breathe. There was a good amount of sunlight and a perfect view of King's Landing from the window. It all felt like a dream. The room you had walked into was her own personal bathroom and you draped the dress over a rail for what you could only assume was for robes and towels.

"You can put it on in here. I'll lace it up once you're done."

You exited the room in a hurry and closed the door behind you. There was a tense silence in the air, only filled by the ruffle of clothes and possibly your heartbeat. You could hear it hammer in your ears as the door swung open and out came Brienne with a pinch of worry.

You noticed that she was avoiding the mirror for her eyes sought for something to stare at as a distraction while she steered herself to stand with her undone laces facing you. You weaved them with trained hands, and when you were done, you continued to style he rest of her. From her hair to her face, you were too focused to realize that her attention had shifted from the wall to you as her distraction.

Her anxiety was crunching but she was grateful that you seemed to have taken no notice of it. Her hands were balled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms to get a hold of herself. She maintained all composure to calm herself. She could be making a fool of herself all over again for taking this chance, for trusting you. But, wthat sort of a knight was she if she were not taking risks? She had taken more life-threatening jobs than go through embarrassing situations. It felt ridiculous even anticipating the terrors of humiliation.

The intensity of your attention and commitment to every detail was comforting, in a sense. No person would waste away their time on another just to make a fool of out of them, right? She eased herself with her breaths, letting her mind empty itself while she focused on you. On the way your lip would curl when you felt triumphant, on the way your brows knitted when you were focused, on the scrunch of your nose as you contemplated. It calmed her down.

What was hours had only felt like minutes and you were done. You maneuvered yourself in front of her to take a look at her. The masterpiece and the dress.

She donned a high collared dark blue velvet dress that reached down to her feet, long sleeves cuffed at her wrists, and no corset but a belt that wrapped around her waist. The belt was embroidered with the symbols of her house, and within its center was the Stark's sigil, for the house she honored. Her hair was curled instead of gelled back, but there was just a bit of gel to maintain the curls through the night. You were not finished just yet. There was still a trick or two up your sleeve but you needed just brief second to see all of Brienne. Giddily, you touched her chin gently, a brush in hand.

"Lower your head a little," you murmured as you assessed the details of your design.

"I'm sure you aren't that short."

"I'm trying to get the light."

And so, she adjusted herself. "How much longer?"

"Only a touch bit..." you hummed. With a few strokes of your brush, you added your finishing touches. "And there."

A beat.

"You can look in the mirror, my Lady."

She looked at you, frozen in place. Taking her hand, you led her to the mirror at the back of the room. She did not look until you stopped, and when she did, she stared at her reflection. That person... That very lady she was looking at was herself. She moved a hand to her cheek as if to check that it was no illusion and when the truth of the situation sank in, you saw her bottom lip quiver.

"I... I look--"

"Beautiful."

She looked at you, eyes glittering in tears, but her blank stare never changed. "I've never felt this way... I.. I don't know how to thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for. It's all you. All I did was style you up."

"No, you haven't." She wiped her tears away delicately to prevent herself from smudging your art. "In Tarth, I would be fitted into what they deemed the prettiest dresses, be made to look like the picture perfect woman to whosever standard it was... but none of that ever made me feel beautiful. You made me feel more of a lady than I've ever been."

"I often go by the philosophy, 'if you can't fit in, then stand out'. You don't have to look like the other hundred women in the room."

"I'll have to think the way you do more often," she laughed lightly as she continued to dab away her tears.

"I tend to be wise." Your eyes lit up when you spotted a box sitting on your desk and you leapt straight to it. "One last thing."

You brought it over to her and set it on the floor before opening it to reveal a silver wreath of vines with a moon and sun bloomed in the center. You had it made on the day you met her as it was the first idea that sparked in your head for your design. It was simple but it completed the rest of the look. Awestricken, Brienne stared at it and you had to beckon her to lower her head for you to put it on her, like a crowning. It sat atop of her curls, a perfect fit, and she straightened herself right up to look at herself once more.

"It's beautiful."

"Just a finishing touch."

She peered closer in the mirror, fingers running along the lining of her wreath. "I look like one of them."

"Who?"

"The Lords and Ladies. I'm a proper Lady."

"You always were, and still are. With or without the dress."

Brienne looked as if she might faint with how overwhelmed with joy she was but she could only bask in it for so long now that the evening was drawing near. A knight had her duties but at least she was dressed for the occasion. You accompanied her to the door but she did not leave. She had taken ahold of both your hands, her anxiousness returning to her. She would have to face the world in the clothes that made her a ridicule, all on her own. With a few words, her confidence may crumble and she would lose all respect for the knight she was.

Not a lady nor a knight, who else could she be?

She breathed sharply when you drew her into an embrace. "Don't forget to smile."

Laughing softly, she wrapped her arms around you loosely and patted your shoulders. "You are starting to sound like a mother."

You pushed her away lightly and crossed your arms. "Come on."

Sighing, she put on a small smile. "There."

"And there we are..."

The words came quick but she could not hold it in anymore. One second more and she would have doubted herself. "Come with me."

You gave her a look, stumbling back in surprise. "I couldn't possibly! I'm not dressed for it."

"Then stand out." She extended a hand to you. She had used your own words against you.

You stayed true to your philosophy and took the hand proudly. If she was going to brave her fears, it was a good example to follow your own advice. The walk to the ballroom was long but it gave you enough time to muster every ounce of courage in your body to take in the crowd of thousands in the room. You slipped your arm through Brienne's to secure yourself to her as she led you through. As much of a social butterfly you were, you were not willing to get lost in a crowd of strangers, let alone nobles who had the personalities of feral animals, waiting to strike any commoner down.

Heads turned to look your way but their eyes were not on you. They were on Brienne. She towered over most and she met eye-to-eye with a few men who met her stature. There was not an insult in the room, only gaping jaws and astonishment as they came to realize who it was at your arm. Some lords took the initiative to greet Brienne a good evening and compliment her before ladies started following after. A smile looked bright on Brienne but pure happiness looked radiant on her.

Maybe Brienne the Beauty had always been the truth, and you were honored to be the one who uncovered it.

[derangederensimp]

Jujutsu Kaisen One Shot Kinktober

#12 Hate (Angry) Fucking / Exhibitism x Fem Reader

CW: Plot, Mean Dom Naoya, Hickeys, Biting, Pet Names, degradation, humiliation exhibitionism, Creampie. Naoya is his own warning. Yes yes the relationship isn’t healthy. This will probably be adapted into a mini series 🧍‍♀️.

Art at the end belongs to @nanichi0 🖤 show some love to their twitter.

-

“Oh wife, do you really hate me that much? How pathetic you are to crumble at my feet every night beg for more. What is it woman? Do you hate me or do you just like it when I toss you around?”

Naoya said, holding your cheeks in his hand, squeezing your face gently. The tears welling up in your eyes made him chuckle. “I-I do hate you. I wish I never married you” you spat at him. Your words seemingly did not affect him but inside a flame was burning in him. One that desired your love and devotion dearly. “Ah as if you had a choice really with all your family debt, I picked you and you became mine and you will be mine till the day you die”

What even got you into this mess was your shitty attitude, if you would’ve been the picture perfect wife Naobito told you to act like, Naoya wouldn’t have had to pull you aside into a different room. Naobito was worse than Naoya and believe it or not he loved you no matter how sexist and misogynistic he acted.

To him you were like fresh air, someone he could act himself around but he often found himself cowering away like a child afraid of your reaction, afraid he father would hear him and take his title away for not being what a “man should be”

You heard of the Zen’in clan and wished you’d never cross them but your family left you in such a predicament that you had gone to estate where a line of women stood. Naoya came out with Naobito and looked over each and everyone of you, his eye immediately catching you. He tried to act interested in the women Naobito complimented and discussed but he stared at you the entire time, your eyes never left his glare not backing down to his dominance.

From then on he knew you would be the one. “Father enough of this, I want her” He said standing in front of you. Your eyes grew wide and your heart sank, you should’ve been excited right? You thought to yourself, “debt would be paid off” you said but the thoughts lingering in your mind the rumors of how horrible Zen’in men treated their wives you wondered if being alone and having no place to go was more worth it than this.

But something was different, Naoya once alone would hold your hand intently. A soft smile on his face but as soon as the door creaked to open he let go, his face falling back into a straight face. You noticed this happened quite often as later that night instead of consummating your marriage he just held you in his arms asking questions about you to try and get to know the women he was spending the rest of his life with.

The next few months went well as well as you assumed it would go. He was always so gentle but at times when you’d beg him to be rough he would be. He wasn’t concerned about getting you pregnant as he wanted to spend time with you just as his wife. But one day this stopped, he became cold, distant, and told you that his father wasn’t happy with how things have been going and he’d find him a more obedient wife.

“Is that what you want” you asked. “As if I have a say in what I want. Just do what you're supposed to wife” Naoya seethed. Weeks passing you got annoyed with his on and off affection so you became distant but despite that you always found your way back into his grip.

“Hey, i'm talking to you” Naoya said again, letting go of your cheeks slightly to pull you back to reality. “I hate you” you said again looking at him.

The flame in his stomach exploded, he stepped closer to you. His hands resting on the side of your face he pulled you into a kiss. Your anger only slightly dying on his tongue. Your arms were the first to wraps around his neck continuing the kiss. A smirk growing on Naoya’s face knowing he had you right where he wanted. Pulling his head away a string of saliva still remained before he wiped it away. “Thought you hated me hmm? Then why is it that you are pulling me in for me?”

Naoya said, lifting you up and placing you on the desk. Being in his arms like that again made the heat between your legs swell. A gasp leaving your lips when he reached under your dress and yanked off your damped panties. “I’m taking these” he cooed into your ear shoving them into his pocket. “Now will you be a good girl and behave for me?” Naoya asked, placing his thumb in your chin and making you look at him.

“No” you taunted him, a smirk growing across your lips. Pulling you back into a kiss you kept mumbling how much you hated him which only made him keep kissing you, hoping his tongue would silence you. Taking his mouth off yours he slipped his fingers between your cunt “Hate me so much yet your cunt is so wet for me y/n? Seems a bit conflicting no? Want me to stop?”

“N-no” you said, your face growing red. Turning away from his gaze. Pulling your face back to look at him “So you can be obedient when you wanna” Naoya cooed into your ear, putting his thumb against your clit and circling it. His other hand freed your breasts from untying the front of your dress. Taking one into his hand playing with your nipple pinching at it to gain a whine from you.

Obedient the word pissing you off more and more each time he said it but not wanting the pleasure to end you just ignored it the best you could, you count be mad at him later. “And you can stop being a prick when you want to” you said. “Me a prick? Would a prick make you cum whenever you wanted?”

Removing his fingers, your body was angry from the sudden pause as you glared at him.

“Awe look how angry you look” he said. Just as you were about to speak up he lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist “not ganna drop you” he cooed into your ear before biting at your neck and leaving hickeys behind, he liked the way you’d moan out softly each time he’d cause you a bit of pain.

“I bet you I’ll make you scream out my name. Everyone out there will know how well we get along huh y/n”

You felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, twitching against your lips. He lowered you slowly at first before slamming you against his body. A loud groan coming from him as you bit your lip to try and hold in your sounds. Naoya looked at you with hooded eyes, continuously fucking himself into you from below.

Your cunt telling him how good he felt by how you squeezed him so tightly. “S-shit. So tight. I could stay like this all night” He said between breaths.

He was eager to get you to scream his name, holding your back with one arm leaning you back and his thumb found your clit again rubbing circles. A dragged out moan came from your throat, his cock splitting you in two going deeper and deeper from the changed angle.

“A-ah Fuck-k I hate you N-naoya” you said, screaming out his name as your nails dug into his back.

He hissed from the pain but it burned into pleasure as your cunt clenched around his cock so beautifully. He huffed out air, keeping his pace he hit your g-spot making your walls spasm around him. “There you go y/n. Cum on my dick”. Your body responding to his command. Your thighs twitched as you bit down on his collarbone leaving a mark behind when you let go.

Naoya taking it to be a sign to be tougher with you and finish. Walking over to the desk he laid you down onto it, grabbing your legs and forcing them to hit your chest. You wheezed out air your eyes wide as you stared at him. “N-Naoya” you moaned when your cunt felt empty before he shoved himself back in with one quick hard thrust. Fucking himself into you faster and faster your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you reached closer to your second orgasm. Throwing his head back his nails dug into your thighs “Feels so good. you did this on purpose. You just wanted me to fuck you didn’t you?” He said in between breaths.

“You could never really hate me” he grunted. His hand reaching up to grab your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. “I-I do” you moaned. His hips rutting against yours a few more times before he quickly spoke “gotta cum. Inside. Ok?”

The wind was being knocked out of you but you were able to groan out “yes”. Your orgasm taking over your cunt squeezed his cock one finale time making hot ropes of cum full you up. He rested his head on your forehead as he caught his breath.

Pulling out he cleaned himself up with your panties, wiping the cum leaking out of your cunt before shoving them back into his pocket. “Now come on, we have to get back to the banquet. You better behave” Naoya said, winking at you. Once you got your dress fixed he took your hand into his and headed for the door. Pushing it open, a crowd of people dispersing in opposite directions.

Naoya chuckled to himself as you looked to the ground with embarrassment.

Can we talk about how amazing @nanichi0 draws Naoya?!? He looks so fucking good 😩

-

Don’t forget to leave a note! Or a comment 🖤

Kinktober Masterlist

Taglist: @yellooaaa , @immindingmyown , @dovas-world , @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn , @ilovestevelacy2228 , @nothisispatrick300 , @chrrybl0ss0m

[animesugar]

ur obsessed

NSFW// under 18 and ageless DNI

college au, asshole!jean, fem bodied reader

cw// unprotected sex, creampie, power play (but everybody's into it) hatefucking kind of, there's nothing crazy in here but pls lmk if i missed anything

i am down bad for this man and also a good enemies to lovers arc. also this is my first one of these so pls enjoy, it's a little slow angst in the beginning but she picks up don't you worry.

what a stupid smirk. you hated the motherfucker staring at you from across the quad that was doing his best to get a rise out of you, and you had ever since his stupid undercut walked into your freshman dorm as a mid semester transfer 3 years ago. He was a prick through and through, but the kind that a less perceptive person would dismiss as charming, so he got away with it. Always 3 stops past the cutoff between funny and mean, he jaunted around campus like a king, surrounded by a mostly constant gaggle of equally-dickish (but admittedly not as clever) boys and a few token brunettes. You weren’t really sure what had made him single you out that first day to get picked on, and it wasn’t really anything obnoxious. Maybe you just weren’t in the mood to be toyed with. Maybe you didn’t want him to think you were buying into the bit. Either way, rolling your eyes and shoving his bigass head out of your face before he even got a chance to bug you at point blank range had made you antagonist number one in his eyes ever since. For three years, Kirstein comma Jean had been like a single fruit fly that just wouldn't die, buzzing around just enough to never anticipate it but to always be infuriated when it came. Sometimes, it was holding the door just long enough for you to be hit with it when he let go. Sometimes, he would spill your drink at the bar under the auspice of grinding on the girl next to you. Sometimes, it was making sure you never got to keep the same seat in any of the classes you had together, taking whatever desk you seemed to have claimed. Your only form of communication with the enemy was a morse code of eye rolls and scoffs, because you weren't even sure if the ashy-blonde beast could understand human language, so why bother. But this strategy backfired because why would anyone believe that someone who you never talk to is actually antagonizing you on purpose. He’s just popular, your friends would say, so he’s kind of in everyone’s way. He’s just everywhere all the time, it’s not personal. And honestly, they would jeer, you’ve made it clear to him to leave well enough alone. And that was true. Jean certainly wasn’t in any shortage of willing victims for his games. Most girls knew that they had a 6 in 10 shot of the taunting turning into something a little more satisfying, and the rumor was that his after hours performances were worth the price of admission. Anyway, Jean’s grating presence had been a constant in the campus ecology since that fucker stepped foot in your freshmen hall, and while you definitely thought about it a lot, your conclusion was that he was just a cocky, conceited, always-cons-his-way, asshole, and so you had long since squashed any ember of desire to be one of the stupid girls in his bed that played the game.

But then, a few weeks ago, some friends asked you if the rumor was true. You watched their faces twist into a smirk as they interpreted your confused look for feigned innocence. Oh c.mon, Jean!! they drew that little fuck’s name out in a mocking tone, I heard you two fucked in the middle of the quad last night. huh?? Wait, I thought it was the quad last saturday and the back hallway of the student center last night!! What?? Your friends are howling laughing, thinking its just toooo good that you finally broke what they saw as obvious sexual tension. Flustered and beet red, you dart your head around, worried someone else heard these accusations. But then again, after a second you thought your friends were just fucking with you. They had long since decided that the running joke would be you and Jean ever getting together, so you started to relax and felt the blood leave your flushed cheeks as you waited for them to get to the punchline.

Except there wasn’t one.

Well, not for you, anyway. 

Your friends watched the look on your face settle and in turn their eyes widened. Wait, so it’s true? they ask, taking your trust in their comedic timing as a proud guilty plea. “What, no,” you say, “of course not! You guys are just fucking around right? Thats hilarious, me fucking somebody out in the open, let alone him.” You laugh through your sentence and your friends' faces grow apprehensive. uhh, no, we actually heard that from Jean...

“What. what do you mean”

They eyed each other then looked back to you.

“What do you mean Jean told you that”

I mean...  he’s been bragging to everyone about it.

Your head whips back around to the little fuck across the quad that is now starting to walk towards you, raking four lanky fingers through his hair. Goddamn it. holy fuck you hate him. He’s so so just........

What’s a matter?? ask him yourself! They all laughed and started to gather their things, a gesture that on the surface was polite but really they just wanted to watch you confront him with no out. 

As he strode up to the blanket you’d been sunbathing on all afternoon, you finally allowed him the satisfaction of a glance, trying desperately to telepathically tell him that you know his little game and he won’t get his way with you.  You wont get bothered, in fact he can say whatever he likes. You are not stupid enough to be so smitten by an idiot. But, when he dropped down to eye level with you, meeting your glare with a cutting pull at the corner of his mouth, the realization that none of those thoughts had actually reached him hits you.

You roll your eyes, an expected next step in your litany of attempted communication with the enemy, and as you started to get, Jean grabs your forearm with a big hand.

“What, now you’re embarrassed to be here with me? From what I hear it should take a lot more than some spectators to pry you away from me.”

He breaks into a full grin and chuckles to himself, so so pleased with his little joke. 

“Fuck right off, Jean, it’s so embarrassing for you that you’re trying to tell people that.” His face softens a bit but the bite is still there, “Anyway, I would never even dream of fucking you, let alone with potential witnesses.” You yank your arm out of his grasp and stand up, gathering your bag and laptop in a swift motion. Turning, you bend down to grab a fistful of the blanket he’s still pinning down, “Get off my fucking blanket, asshole” you hiss. He chuckles and obliges, standing up and cocking his head to the side, “oh, you’re angrier than I thought you’d be. Well, remember, the number one rule to not getting caught is never return to the scene of the crime, but unfortunately for us,” he looks around and spreads his arms in a sweeping gesture, “we’ve just incriminated ourselves and our actions last saturday.” His grin creeps back full-force as he drops his arms back to his sides. You can only scoff and turn away, making your way back home to the dorms. God, you hate him, you think to yourself. You also hate that his voice is stuck in your head now, and you’re kicking yourself for lingering a little too long on the thought that actually, this is the first time you’ve had a conversation with him.

Over the next week or so the rumors still swirled, but since he had been such a predictable prick to you that day in the quad, you decide to fight fire with fire. Protesting and denying will only make things worse, you reason. Jean was such a manwhore that it was universally and absolutely less likely that he hadn’t slept with someone than that he had, so denying this would be working against the current. No, you think to yourself, I’ll use some leverage. 

Which is how you had decided to start telling anyone who would lend an ear that yes, in fact, you had fucked Jean. And he was terrible. My god, he was the worst fuck you’d had in your life. Was it small they’d ask? And not one to give into the cheap shot, you would assure them that no, it was worse than that. It was long enough, but skinny, and he had no idea how to use it. He fucked like the only porn he watches is women taping hairbrushes to broken washing machines, you told them.

Finally feeling like you had gotten the one up on this little fuck, you spent the next few days happily applying all of the worst hook-up stories you or your friends had to Mr. Kirstein, relishing even more that the risk of vulnerability you had taken was paying off. 

Finishing up a group project in class the next day, you start to pack your things as you put the final details on a new tidbit of Jean’s apparent failings for your group partners.

"Oh yeah," you said, "he was biting at my leg for 10 minutes, apparently he thought I was telling him to stop and move because i was cumming. That motherfucker couldn’t find a clit if it took him by the hand."

Laughing to themselves, your group partners shuffled out with the rest of the class. You had stayed back for a minute to finish an email to the TA, and as you look up to shut your laptop, you see a large, lanky hand shutting it for you.

“So, this is the game we’re playing?” a voice questions from above.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve just been hearing rumors,” You say in a coy taunt. “Anyway, I need to go, so if you’d please unhand my things I’d really appreciate it.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re in on it now, let’s workshop some stories together,” Jean says through a shit-eating grin as he replaces your computer with his ass on your desk, “I think we would make a better team than you seem to suggest.”

“Hmm..” you muse, pantomiming deep thought, then turning to him with a glare “Thanks, this actually has given me some ideas. I think i’ll start telling them that you begged like a dog for it. Yeah, I think thats the cherry on top. I can hear the gossip now, ‘Jean Kirstein begs to disappoint.’ Oh yeah, I think thats great.’ You chuckle to yourself as you go to zip your backpack when you feel his hand grab your shoulder.

“Do you really think I’d beg?”

It catches you off guard. the motion, the tone, everything about what Jean just did was loaded. Was this a trick to get you to look like the beggar? Was he actually mad? No, you thought, this felt.....

no, you shook the thought. It didn't matter if it was genuine. It didn't matter if he really wanted to beg you, here and now, to let him fuck you. He was awful, you knew that. You could never forgive yourself for succumbing to him. So you wouldn’t.

“Yeah, actually. I think you’re such a pathetic shell of a man that you would beg. And why wouldn’t I think that? You beg for every scrap of attention anyone gives you.”

He pushes you back, squaring your shoulders off to him as he situates himself on the desk sitting directly in front of you. Your shoulders between his knees, he leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, long fingers dangling loosely and grazing your chest.

“I do? You think I beg?’ he asks softly.

Fuck. You sat as still as you could, focusing on steadying your breath and not showing the flush that had just swelled through your cheeks. Staring straight ahead into his abdomen to avoid eye contact, you feel fingertips gently but firmly pushing your forehead back, forcing you to look up at him. Fuck, he’s not letting me hide you think. Goddamnit, this was hot.

But you can’t give up the game. You can’t let him think he’s won.

“God, you fuckin perv. Of course you have to beg. Who would fuck you of their own accord?”

His fingertips fall back down between his knees. He hums then sucks his teeth, “Oh c’mon baby, dont be so mean-”

“Baby?? who the fuck are you calling baby you pretentious little fuck?” you bark at him. The rage you felt towards him had suddenly reappeared in you kind, clearing the fog that his soft touch had created. “Goddamn, I literally can’t even believe you’re trying this right now. Do you really think this is a tease game or something? God, you’re not only horrible in theory, you’re pathetic in person, And that's fucking worse.”

You bite your tongue at that last word. Damn, you really hated him but you didn’t want to stoop to his level and just be fuckin’ mean. The way his face was draining of color made you think you took it too far, and your posture softened, bracing to apologize-

“Say it again”

what? you're speechless for a beat.

“What?”

His pupils start to dilate just enough to notice, and his breath is a little shakey when he asks, “Call me pathetic again, y/n, and maybe i will beg you for it, is that what you want?”

You aren’t sure if he's teasing or begging, but that confusion is allowing the wall that you had pent up any and all desire for him behind to come crashing down. God, he’s terrible, but... You decide to play along like he’s begging, refusing to give him the win of being in control here. Well, thats what you tell yourself, you're honestly so confused about the dynamics in play that your head is spinning. Which is how you got into this situation anyway.

“Yeah, beg for it you pathetic, disgusting fuck. Look at you, panting and pale just from the thought that maybe you’ll cop a feel.”

Something in your mind flips again and all of the rage and annoyances from the last three years flood back to your brain. You hated him. You hated him so so much. He was so mean to you and so obnoxious and everybody loved him and you didn’t get it. And now, you're face to face with your enemy, hurling insults like a firing squad and he's just... taking it.

“y/n, do you really hate me?”

“Yes”

“Fuck” he groans, leaning back on his hands. Now that he wasn’t hunched over, you get a better view of the raging hard on barely contained under his sweats. “You really think about me that much, baby? Enough to hate me?” He stares at the ceiling in deep thought for a moment, then leans back in. “Well I guess that means I was doing something right.” He comes closer to your face and traces your jaw with his thumb, pushing your head slightly to the side. Feeling his hot breath on your ear he whispers, “I guess I will have to beg then, since you hate me so much. Will you let me do that, y/n, will you let me beg?”

Your face is hot and tingling from his touch. It would be so easy to just get up and leave him bothered and embarrassed, and isn’t that what you wanted? It was, you mused, but right now? In this moment, all you want is for him to beg you to let him fuck your brains out. You hate yourself for it, too, are you really that horny that even Jean is making the cut? Or, more horrifyingly, is he actually turning you on? Your internal struggle is cut short by the soft feeling of his teeth grazing your earlobe, and with that your fate is sealed.

“Yes, yes you can beg me for it, Jean” You utter.

With those words, his thumb falls from your jaw down your throat, his fingers following suit and delicately draping themselves on the other side of your neck. He takes a sharp breath, "Please y/n, can i kiss you right here? Please let me, y/n I can barely stand it"

Shuddering and resenting the goosebumps that have trailed his touch, you nod, stifling a whimper. You know that the second you vocalize a response, your lust will be betrayed and he'll know he's won. So you sit there stoically as he runs his lips down your neck, taking in your scent and groaning to himself before he steadies the gentle grip on your neck and lands a soft kiss just below your ear. He continues these little flutters, just the soft touch of his lips and tongue, all the way to your collarbone, where he realizes he's reached the boundary of his request. He drags his lips back up to your ear, and between kisses begs again.

"Please, can I please use my hands y/n? I gotta know if you feel as good as i think, i'm begging you."

The begging is driving you crazy. He looks up at you with half lidded eyes that plead even more desperately than his words.

"Where do you want to use your hands, Jean? Surely you don't think you've begged enough to get anywhere near my cunt, right?" you sneer down at him, putting on your best front and trying to sell that you aren't also aching for him at this point.

He gives you a pathetic look, almost like he's about to cry, and starts to kiss your neck again. "i just need to feel your tits, y/n, i need to taste them, ple-"

you grab a fistful of his hair and make him face you. "Oh, taste? you need to need to be more specific about your requests Jean, you only asked me to use your hands. Why do you deserve to use your mouth anymore, asshole?" The pounding heat growing between your legs is giving you newfound confidence in your harsh words. Fuck, this is so hot, he is so, so hot groveling for you. Was this really the payback for years of torment? No, he's clearly getting off on this too. You saw his dick twitch under the sweats when you grabbed his hair. No this isn't payback this is... this is some sort of sick hatefuck. At least for you. Probably.

"Fuck, baby you're right i don't. I won't push my luck again y/n I can't risk it. Can i just touch them, please?" He whimpers. Releasing the grip on his hair you say yes, and with that he moves from the desk he's been sitting on down to his knees. He pulls you the the edge of your seat by your waist with strong arms. Slipping his hands underneath your shirt you feel that the trail of goosebumps continues to follow his touch down your back then up your stomach. He stops kissing the crook of your neck and lets his breath collect where his lips once were as he unhooks the fasten of your bra, letting it fall slack gently and pulling his hands back to your now exposed chest.

He runs his thumbs over your painfully hard nipples with a look of ecstasy on his face. You can feel that you’ve already soaked through your underwear and he’s barely touched you, Fool, you scolded yourself. I'm a fool for him right now. Your hands instinctively run up his arms, then neck, then through his hair, anchoring themselves there as you pull him closer. “Please” he whimpers, “Please can i kiss them”

“Ye- yes” You breath out, lifting your arms for him as he guides your shirt over your head. With one in his hand and the other in his mouth, he takes your nipple in his teeth and sucks. He circles the other with his thumb, keeping it just as hard as the one he’s moaning into. You cradle his head close to your body, lost in the warm bliss you had been denying yourself all these years. 

“Fuck, baby, they’re so much better than I even imagined” he switches his hand and mouth

“oh, so you’ve imagined this, Jean?”

“mhm” he mumbles into a facefull of tit. He comes up for air, “Fuck, I have imagined taking you every way possible. I need to, baby, please. You’re the only one who makes me beg for you. For your attention, your time, your body. Fuck baby please let me, please.” He’s whining now, looking up at you with pleading eyes and running his hands all down your sides and up your back. That last ‘please’ makes your eyes roll back into your head as your knees spread involuntarily. But you couldn’t give up just yet.

“what exactly are you begging for Jean? You need to- to use your words” You choke out, stifling a moan from his big hands coming back up to your tits like they belonged there.

“Your pussy, baby, fuck I can see how soaked you are through your clothes. I need to play with it, to taste it, worship it, fill it. Fuck y/n please” He really looks like he might cry if you deny him, and the ache in your cunt is driving you to grind your hips against your chair. “please, baby, can I lick it for you? I know you wanna cum, I wanna make you cum baby. Can I please?”

All you can do is nod

He kisses down from your sternum to your stomach and finally the waistband of your pants. “I need you to stand up for me baby. I’m sorry to even ask more of you, but I just need you to help me so I can make you feel good.” He lifts your hips up like he’s helping you to your feet, and once upright he starts fingering the button of your jeans. As he undoes it and pulls down the zipper, a little whimper leaves your lips and draws a breathy chuckle out of him. Fuck, if this is a game, he’s winning you think. Shit.

But you can’t know how close to heaven this is for Jean. God, the thrill of a three year chase, culminating in this. You’re so perfect, so soft to the touch, and so mean when you want to be. He just wanted to prove to you that those things you said about him being a bad fuck weren’t true. He needed you to know that no one could make you feel like he could. And how could they? No one else has been able to keep your attention for as long as he has. He didn’t know why you still let him get a rise out of you, but he was constantly chasing that little rush he got whenever you would spare him a cutting look, eyes like daggers tracing down his skin. You were tantalizing, and you made it so much worse by never playing along. He had to earn your cooperation in his game. And he intended to do just that, fuck, he needed to.

He looks right in front of him to your now naked pussy, having taken off your soaked-through panties with your jeans. Big hands on your ass, he tilts his head up to you, “Thank you, baby, you’re too good to me. Please sit down now y/n, let me make you cum.”

You oblige, knees spread while you lean back into the chair, letting your dripping cunt hang from the edge, ready for Jean’s touch. With one hand on your inner thigh and the other gripping your waist he brought his mouth to your pussy, licking up and down, sprinkling kisses in between to keep you on edge. Dragging his tongue from your ass to your clit, he starts to suck on it and elicits a sharp whine out of you. Already starting to get close, you gasp again when you feel two long, rough fingers tease your hole. 

“Can I please feel it, y/n?” He mutters, basically inaudible because he’s kind of just asking your cunt. 

“Fuck, yes, Jean, just put them in. You taunt me enough anyway, you don’t need to be such a tease,” you huff, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, a last ditch effort to convince him you need him to beg.

With that, He looks up at you with an evil glint in his eye and buries his fingers in your pussy, curling them up once he’s as deep as he can get to find the spot that will make you yelp. Hearing that he found it, he starts finger fucking you, stroking that little spot every few thrusts. God, he’s gonna make me cum, you think to yourself. But you don’t wanna just cum on his fingers. You wanna cum on his cock. You need to have it in you, especially if it’s anything like you’ve been imagining since you saw the dick print earlier. 

“Please cum for me, y/n, im begging you. I really need to feel you cum on my fingers, fuck.” He pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in.

“Fuck, you’re so so tight."

Out and back in.

“I just need you to cum for me please.”

Out and back in.

“Could you do that? Because I need to fuck you and I need to get you ready for my cock.” He’s whining his pleads over the lewd sound of your wet cunt, and as he’s begging to bury his dick in you he pushes you over the edge. Feeling that you’ve given in to his request as your walls push his fingers out, he stands over you and lifts you up by the waist.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s so good and i haven’t even put my dick in yet,” he moans into your ear. “Can I, please? I know I can make you feel even better than you do right now if I can use it. Can I use my cock, y/k?”

“Yes, yes Jean fuck you can use your cock. You can use it however you want” you say, panting. With that, he leans down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself and also letting you realize you haven’t actually kissed him yet. He guides you to the wall, pinning your back against it with his hips and pressing his forearm next to your head. Greedy kisses travel from your mouth and down your neck, interrupted only for him to mutter, “Y/n? can you please pull it out? I wanna feel you hold it.”

“Mhm,” you nod shakily, still recovering from the orgasm. You trace your fingers down his toned stomach to his waistband. Hooking a finger underneath, you pull the elastic out and down, grazing his hard cock as you guide the sweats down his hips. holy shit, he’s big, you realize as you take it in your hand, squeezing a little. 

“Fuck, y/n” he pushed his hips back into you. “Fuck can i put it in?”

“Mhm” you squeak.

He takes his dick out of your hand and into his, guiding it along your soaked pussy before he lines up the tip with your still throbbing hole. Holding it there, he hooks his other arm under your knee, lifting your leg and giving him unobstructed access to the cunt that he's been drunk on the thought of since he sat down on your desk.

You gasp when he pushes in, only the tip at first but, fuck, its enough to make you scream. 

“please, Jean, please all the way” 

“Shh,” he coos from the crook of your neck, “Pussy’s so good and tight, I gotta work my way in.” He says, rolling his hips into you one, two, three, more times until finally you feel his full length. Your hands tangled in his hair, all you can think about is how fucking good he’s stretching you out with his fat cock. Just like he did with his fingers, he pulls his dick all the way out of you before rewarding your soaked hole with a hard thrust back in. Over and over and over. You start to grind your hips into his, greedy for more as you let him wash over your senses.

“Please jean, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum again” you cry.

“Oh, now you’re the one begging, huh?” he’s fucking you like he’s made for you, every thrust more intoxicating than the last as he holds you up against the wall. You’re basically a ragdoll at this point, putty in his hands and he knows it, but he’s just so, so high off your fucked out face, blubbering his name while he strokes your starving pussy.

God, you’re even better than he ever imagined. He could keep this up for hours, a constant back and forth of his begging for you and your begging for him. He keeps his dick deep inside and flexes it, resting his face back in the crook of your neck and feeling you shiver at that little move. 

“God, I could fuck this pussy all day, y/n. Did you know how good you feel? You knew what you were keeping from me, huh? Goddamn” His tone isn’t begging anymore, you notice. It’s dominant and in control, but still just as infatuated with you. Which is just as well, because you don’t have the sense anymore to keep up the facade of needing him to beg. God, all you wanted was for him to use you like this for hours. You had already won, he had to beg to get here. You were just fine to surrender now, and fuck did surrender feel good.

“I want you to fuck me however you want, Jean,” you barely string the sentence together. At that, the evil little glint returns. He lifts you off his cock and bends you over a desk. Expecting his dick again you gasp when its his tongue, stroking the length of your cunt then fucking it. His fingers find your finally-recovered clit and coax another orgasm out of you. Hearing your desperate panting, he grabs your hips and shoves himself back inside.

"I know, baby, it hits all the right places huh?" he groans, "Fuck" He propped his knee on the desk you were sprawled over for better leverage, getting deeper than you thought anyone could. You feel a bite behind your ear and hear him pant through another sting of profanities. He's definitely getting close- his hips start to go crazy thrusting into you wild wild abandon. "oh fuck, jean please, please cum right there!" you beg as he rams into you over and over.

His pace slows as his words start to regain a hint of whine. "yeah?" he says "you gonna let me fill you up, y/n? i fucked you good enough that you'll let me do that?"

"y-yes, ill let you, Jean, you can fill me, you e-earned it" His dick was taking such soft strokes in and out of your sensitive pussy, and you feel him flex inside you again. "ah, fuck, jean-" you couldn't even finish your exclamation as two fingers suddenly found their way into your mouth while you felt your cunt get filled.

"you like getting two holes full? hmm? maybe next time ill fill all three for you" He slides out of your stretched hole and pulls you back to sit on his lap. Looking up at him, feeling his cum leak out of you, you can't believe you ever denied yourself this. But, you were glad that you made the man who was giving you a stupid, pussy drunk smirk beg for it.

[maschotch]

tw: references to child abuse

Jessica has always liked Hotch. Even when their parents hated him, citing his poor track record, more days absent than spent going to school, the fights, the bruises, the scowl, the reputation. It helped that she loved and trusted her sister: if Haley really thought someone was worth her time, then Jessica was willing to give him a shot.

So Jessica started paying a little more attention. The rumor mill wasn’t kind to him. Everyone knew Mr. Hotchner was a violent drunk. It was hard to keep something like that a secret in a town like theirs. Especially in the last couple years when it seemed he spent more time drunk than sober, the bellowings and beatings of the Hotchner household often heard out in the street. But it’s not like anyone did anything to stop it—so what if he kicked around his kid a bit? Who cares that he’s always been a little too clumsy with a few too many broken bones? As he got older, the Hotchner boy started getting into fights. It was easier for all of them to pretend his injuries were from a fight instead of his father. People talked about it less and less and just brushed him off as another angry teenager. 

Beyond that, most people didn’t give him a second thought. 

But Jessica was paying attention now: this was a boy her younger sister had taken an interest in, she had to see what he got up to. How much of what they said was true? 

She noticed Aaron didn’t start the fights. Most people thought the wiry, sunken-eyed kid made an easy target. They were wrong. One on one he rarely lost. At this point, most of the local bullies had picked up on that. It helped that the boy shot up like a tree this past year, standing at nearly six feet tall. Still thin, still underfed. But he had something of a reputation now. People would rarely go after him on their own. Even when he was ganged up on, he’d take every blow with barely a flinch, that sullen scowl cemented on his face even if he’d been forced to the ground. 

She noticed his injuries the next day didn’t always line up with yesterday’s fight: an extra black eye, bruises where they shouldn’t be, the cut on his lip deeper than before—was he limping like that yesterday? She thought maybe he was just getting into other altercations somewhere else and she just hadn’t heard about it. But between his haggard look and his father’s own notorious reputation, she knew she was just avoiding the obvious. It was easier to not notice a thing like that. 

But there were other things she noticed too. Like how he’d stop and pet the streetcat that hung around the school’s dumpster. How he’d frequent the library and always seemed to have a new book each time she saw him. How he’d occasionally be in the park with his little brother, playing with him or letting him do his little toddler things while he enjoyed the sun and read a book, keeping an eye on the small child. How he had dimples on the rare occasions that he smiled. She noticed things that had nothing to do with the violence that clung to him like an unwanted shadow. 

Jessica was there for their first date. Haley was mortified, obviously, but there was no way Jessica was letting her baby sister go on a date alone yet. Aaron seemed fine with it, sliding casually into the booth across the two sisters at the local diner. He insisted on paying for the food and milkshakes. (She noticed he hadn’t ordered any food for himself, just swiped the occasional fry to dip in his shake.) His eyes seemed lighter and his smile a little brighter when he talked, joking and teasing until both girls were smiling. Jessica liked that he wasn’t ignoring her and didn’t try to exclude her from the conversation. He’d ask about senior year and what colleges she was looking into and what else she was planning on doing and why she had never dipped a fry in a shake before. (She noticed he avoided talking about himself, delicately navigating around any talk of his home life.) 

Conversation was light and easy, and her sister had that giddy smile she used to have when they were little. He walked them home (she noticed how Haley held his hand) and wished them good night at the door and Jessica decided she approved. Despite what the rest of the town might’ve thought, he seemed like a sweet kid. 

Jessica ushered Haley inside, cutting off her hurried apologies thrown over her shoulder to Aaron for whatever inevitably humiliating thing her sister was about to say, and turned to face him. The porch light exaggerated his hollow cheekbones and the weary bags under his eyes—too deep for someone so young. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but he wasn’t scowling either. He just looked… earnest. 

“She really likes you, you know.” He couldn’t hold back his grin then, and Jessica couldn’t help but beam back at him. “If you hurt her, though, I’ll kill you.” 

[sumsebien]

a dare for a truth //nikolai lantsov

masterlist

summary: a night in Ketterdam promises Nikolai a tattoo and maybe something more with privateer! yn

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem privateer! reader

word count: 3.5k

warning(s): tw tattoo needle

a/n: so idk if i have told yall this but english is my second language and so sometimes i interpret something incorrectly. one such occasion happened a week ago (?) i was reading siege and storm and came upon nikolai beating a tattoo against his thigh (ish? i don’t remember the exact quote) and your girl thought this meant he had a tattoo :)))) i ahd a fullblown freak out with @milkbaer, probably sent her into shock as well. but turns out that’s just an idiom. but it was a fun idea so this was born.

When Nikolai entered the bar, there was no way he could have predicted where the night would have taken him. It started out like any other evenings in Ketterdam for Sturmhond - the charming, fearless privateer. He walked into his tavern and Tome - the large, scruffy bartender yelled out his name, waving him to the counter with a couple of shots ready. Beside him, the twins would be discussing something. Nikolai usually never listened in, his attention probably dedicated to chatting up a beautiful lady. But when he heard a name - that name, he stopped whatever he was doing, perking his ears up.

“I heard Albatross got that deal with Zlatan,” Tamar said. “Worth about 2 million kruge, at least.”

It had been a given that on the True Sea, all the most expensive, most dangerous gigs were theirs. Handsome, ruthless Sturmhond, his rowdy crew and their mighty Hummingbird attracted flocks of customers far and wide with astronomical bids. They were untouchable.

However, lately, there had been talk of competition. It was some newcomer called Albatross and their ship Nameless. He had paid the rumors no mind. After all, who in their right minds would want to challenge them? And if so, it’d be a delight to see them try. But the name kept coming up. Over and over. To the point where Nikolai felt they were well past being acquaintances.

Nikolai picked up his drink, eyeing his reflection in the liquor bottle on the shelf and waited for Tolya to reply.

“Shame. We could have got that,” Tolya said.

“What deal?”

“You were listening?”

Nikolai nodded, holding out his chin expectantly. Tamar took a look at Tolya, uncertainty in her eyes. She knew how competitive he was. How he wanted to be the best at everything. Maybe this was not a good moment to tell him that there was a chance he might be or possibly had already fallen in rank.

“I can handle it. Just tell me.”

Tamar sighed and began to talk of a deal. Apparently, Zlatan wanted to stick his grubby fingers into trade between Fjerda and Novyi Zem and he had entrusted Albatross with the task. After the report, Tamar watched Nikolai with a close eye, scanning for a reaction. Anger, jealousy, anything. Yet, to her disappointment, all he did was purse his lips, cross his arms and say calmly, “Really sounds like you admire this Albatross girl.”

“Admire? This girl is my bloody hero.”

Hearing that caused a small but unpleasant jab to his ego. Maybe he should find this girl and see what her deal was. And despite the initial insignificant blow to his self-esteem, he was certain that this girl was not all mighty as Tamar made her out to be.

He laughed to himself. Who would name themself after a seagull and then not even bother to think of one for their ship?

“Albatross!”

All three heads were turned when Tome the Bartender’s voice boomed across the room. Nikolai straightened his spine, craning his neck to get a better look over the sea of people. He did not expect to get his answer almost immediately.

Albatross in his mind was anything but who she actually was. He thought she’d be an ugly hag with a bad back and a grating voice. But through the doors came a rare beauty. He could tell even in the atrocious lighting and past the thick clouds of cigar smoke. The atmosphere had changed.

“Tome knows her?” Nikolai said under his breath, turning around when he thought she caught him staring.

Tamar sighed, her eyes shamelessly glued to the figure moving closer and closer to them. “Who doesn’t? You’d be lying to say you have never heard of her before.”

“Tome! A round for the crew please!” The sweetest voice called not too far from where he sat.

“The usual, Y/N?”

“You know it!”

How well did they know each other?

Nikolai could feel Tamar itching to go and introduce herself. He twirled his drink around, keeping his eyes on the small patch of water dripping from his cold glass. Just as expected, he looked up to find his Heartrender already making her way across the bar.

“What is she doing?” Nikolai said with as much composure as he could fake.

Tolya shrugged. “Making friends.”

“Friends? Now? With her?”

“You need powerful friends as much as you do powerful enemies. Didn’t you say that once?” Tolya asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, I did. But I don’t get one mixed up with the other, do I?”

“Oh shush. They are coming.”

Nikolai had never felt like an embarrassed schoolboy more in his entire life, scrambling to hide his blush and play pretend. This was not a proud moment and most certainly one he would love to forget. He turned away from them, sucked in a breath, closed his eyes and called for Sturmhond the Privateer to come back this instance.

“Albatross, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet a legend,” Tolya said from beside Nikolai.

“Oh, you’re too kind. The pleasure’s all mine.”

“We are all huge fans,” Tamar added. “Especially this gentleman here, Sturmhond.”

Nikolai put on a painted smile, twisting his head to finally match gaze with her. He had to fight to keep the smile up on his lips. She was even more gorgeous up close in her formfitting tailcoat and white breeches. He extended his hand with a courteous nod. She took his hand with a grin. Maybe this was going well. He thought to himself.

And then she said, “You’re the one who thinks I’m named after a seagull!”

Too soon. He spoke too soon.

Nikolai gave Tamar a pointed look. A death stare masked by a brilliant smile. Damn Heartrenders.

“Out of everyone, I’d expect you to know that it was a metaphor.”

Lucky for Nikolai, Sturmhond was there to save his face. The privateer arched an eyebrow and wore a quick smirk on his lips. “Me? I must have become a literary genius overnight then.”

“Tamar, let’s go look at that dart board. Will you please excuse us,” Tolya gripped his sister’s sleeves, practically dragging her away by the arm.

Y/N sat down on the stool next to his, flicking her hair out of her face. “Oh, you’re quite the poet, I hear.”

Tome placed a selection of drinks in front of her, ones that he knew she did not order. “On the house.” She blew a cheeky kiss to the bartender.

“Amongst other things,” Nikolai said, watching her interactions with Tome a little too closely. To his surprise, he wanted to know more about the girl next to him. Her sweet demeanor yet commanding presence was rather refreshing. “People talk about you too.”

“Rumors,” she smiled, shaking her head and looking away from him.

“You haven’t even heard what they are.”

Her fingers hovered over the shot glasses, finally closing around a random one. She didn’t answer his question immediately. Instead, she held up her glass to a group of people in the corner. With a mere raise of her hand, the room erupted into cheers, glass clinked together and liquor splattered around. Y/N knocked back her drink, earning a chorus of applause and whistles from her crew.

She didn’t even make a face after the shot, turning to him as though she had just taken nothing more than a sip of water. “I don’t need to hear what I have already said.”

Nikolai couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips, the Prince taking over for the Privateer. “Why? Why feed the vicious rumor mill?”

She took another glass into her fingers. “I’d much rather be the one feeding it than the one being fed to it.”

That made Nikolai laugh. He nodded, raising his glass to her. The two shared a drink in silence. He knew then that he had underestimated her. She was wiser than her years and wiser than most people he knew. Maybe that was because of her time on a ship. Maybe she was just born smarter than everyone else. Was her name even Y/N?

Finally, shots down. Nikolai decided to take his chance. “Tell me something real about you.”

“Ah, you’d have to pay me for that.”

Nikolai did not hesitate to pull out a couple of kruge from his pocket. She laughed when she saw that. “I am not a wishing well. I don’t take coins.” She had her elbow against the counter, turning to face him. “How about you play my games and I tell you? A dare for a truth.”

“Oh, not just any truth, surely.”

At this point, Nikolai knew better than to make any assumptions. Especially about her. But somehow, she still managed to surprise him.

She uncrossed her legs and slowly leaned in like a lion on the prowl. He took a breath, holding it in when her lips nearly touched his ear. She smelled of sweet vanilla and spicy tobacco. “Anything you want, Sturmhond.”

Nikolai knew it was intentional. The way she drew out his name, letting each syllable linger on her tongue for a moment before moving onto the next. And then, she sat back up, yanking Nikolai back to reality with the most innocent grin.

“Lead the way.”

...

At some point in life, Nikolai supposed he should rethink his spontaneity. It was fun and exciting in the moment but it had been responsible for many unfortunate events. He had decided, though, that he was yet to reach that point. For now, he was chasing a beautiful privateer through the streets of Ketterdam towards the harbor to her ship.

“Why Nameless?” he asked when they reached the dock, the Nameless towering over the both of them at the end of the wooden walkway. He let his eyes roam over its triangle sails, the way its body curled into a half moon shape over the night sea. It was impressive, he must admit. Not exactly dated but still commanded respect from onlookers. “Because I ran out of ideas,” Y/N answered with a shrug, a few steps ahead of him.

Soon, they boarded the nearly empty deck. Most of the crew had been out for their break. There were a couple of people left either sweeping the floors or rearranging barrels. All of whom she greeted upon boarding. The slightly damp wood panels gleamed under the moonlight and creaked under their feet. “Is that true?” asked Nikolai as she took him towards the stern of the ship.

“No,” she turned to him with a mischievous grin, walking backwards for a few steps. “This way.”

Y/N pushed the doors open with her shoulders, revealing a spacious cabin. The room was just like any other captain’s cabin, lit with oil lamps and candelabras, decorated with tones of red and gold. There was a rounded desk in the middle of the room, behind it hung two thick curtains.

“May I know my dare now?” he asked.

“In due time.” She gestured towards the table, telling him to make himself at home. And then she disappeared behind the curtains, leaving Nikolai to himself.

Of course he took her up on the offer. He leaned over the table, scanning the little trinkets scattered around from golden pocket watches to gilded compasses. In the sea of warm gold tones, he caught a curious silver gleam in the corner of his eye.

A needle.

Nikolai took it between his fingers, bringing it to the light. It was missing the threading loop that a normal sewing needle would have.

“I see you’ve found your dare,” Y/N said when she reappeared, a wooden box in her hands. Nikolai looked up, quickly noticing that Y/N had forgone her coat. She was now only in a shift shirt, the front loosely tucked in her breeches, the back hanging haphazardly behind her.

“A needle?”

“No.” She walked around the table, gesturing for him to sit down. As he did so, she placed the box down and unlatched it to reveal colorful bottles of dye and ink inside. “A tattoo.”

“You want to give me a tattoo?”

She placed a hand on her hip, staring at him with an incredulous look in her eyes. “Are you scared of a little ink?”

Oh, Nikolai was not afraid. He had a tailor who could easily remove it in the blink of an eye. But Sturmhond, on the other hand, was an Otkazat’sya with a reputation with the ladies. He put on a smile. “Make it pretty. I have many people to answer to if this goes wrong.”

Y/N reached into her kit for a bottle of dye, focused on picking out the right color. “Your mother?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, still not paying him her direct attention.

“No. Yours.”

She did not laugh at his joke, merely giving him a hint of a smile. Y/N seemed to be giving the colors a lot of thought. Picking up vial after vial before putting them down again. Nikolai tried not to stare at the way her lower lip kept rolling under her teeth.

“So how will this work?” he asked, peering into the box.

“You ask a lot of questions. Do you want to do this or not, Sturmhond?”

“If you start answering my questions, yes.”

Y/N paused when she held up a bottle of jet black ink. She gave it far more time than she did any of the bottles. This was the one. Happy with the rich shade of black she had chosen, Y/N turned to him with a soft sigh. “Fair enough.” She tugged on her gloves before leaning her hip against the desk. “I’ll give you a tattoo, anything I want. In the meantime, you can ask me anything you want and I promise I will tell you the truth.”

Nikolai kicked back his legs, leaning into his seat. “You got yourself a deal.” He waved the needle around in a taunting manner.

She snatched it from his hands, holding up a finger. “But you can’t take a peek. Not before it’s done.”

He bowed his head, “Of course.”

“Now take off your coat and lift up your right sleeves.”

“There are other ways of getting me naked-”

That earned himself a swat on the back of his neck. Even though she had gloves on, it still stung. Nikolai rubbed at the spot, eyeing her hands.

“Fine, fine. No need for violence....However, if that’s what you’re into then I am perfectly capab-”

Y/N sucked in a loud breath, ounces of patience drained from her body each time he opened his mouth. Nikolai threw up both of his hands in surrender, hiding behind them when she held the needle dangerously close to his face. “You really want an amateur to tattoo your face, do you?”

“Wait, what?” He put a gap between his fingers and peered through them to look at Y/N. “You have never done this before?”

“That’s right. This is my first time.” She would have wanted to torment him a little further, have him really fear for the fate of his pretty face. But his reaction had her cracking up much earlier than she expected. “Relax. It’s not.”

He dropped his hands, heaving a silent sigh. “Didn’t you promise to tell the truth?”

“That was not a lie. That was a joke. Now take off your jacket and roll up your sleeves.”

Nikolai didn’t have any objections this time. He peeled off his coat and swung it over his chair. And then he rolled up his sleeves. Not because he had to, because he wanted to.

Y/N pretended to fiddle with a brush, running her fingertip over the bristles and watching it spring back into place. But really, she was shamelessly staring at the ginger-haired boy now that his electrifying green eyes weren’t watching her. He wasn’t perfect. It was quite easy to pick out all the little flaws on his face: the little cuts by his cheekbones, the rough bump on his nose, his personality. Yet, somehow with all of them, he still managed to appear effortlessly attractive, even endearing at times.

“Like this?” Y/N almost jumped when he spoke. He watched her with a smirk, his sleeve rolled up to his elbow.

Of course he would like that. She rolled her eyes. “All the way up.”

Y/N thanked the Saints that he didn’t make eye contact with her as he continued to reveal more of his bicep. Maybe she should have settled for the forearm. It would make her less flustered, for sure. “Like that. Perfect.”

“Alright,” he held out his hands, “I’m all yours. Go ballistic.”

Y/N laughed, dipping her brush into the ink pot. “You wouldn’t want that.” She pointed the end of her brush towards the doors, guiding his eyes away before standing in between him and the table. She took a breath, placing one hand on his arm to keep steady. He smelled faintly of cologne. The nice kind. It was not those overly intense ones the sleazy pirates liked to drench themselves in. She liked it.

Nikolai looked away when the brush tickled his skin. “You don’t want me to look because of stage fright or do you just like a surprise?”

“Neither. Had a feeling you might boss my own project around.”

“I would never!”

She gave him a pointed looked. “You would.”

He pouted. She was right.

Y/N quickly sketched the tattoo out in the silence. Her touch was so light that he could barely feel the brush moving. He had no idea what it was, not even the faintest guess. All he knew was that it was not anything huge, probably smaller than the palm of his hand. “How does it look?”

“Good. What else do you want to waste your questions on?”

“Why Nameless?”

She smiled, twisting around to replace the brush with an actual needle this time. “I wanted it to speak for itself. It didn’t need a clever name to earn people’s respect.”

“Then why Albatross? Why not something simpler?”

She placed the needle to his skin, the cool silver kissing his skin. “Because in my case, it distracts people from the fact that I am a girl, in a man’s world.”

The words hung heavy in the air. It was the most personal thing she had revealed. And it reminded Nikolai of his own doubts years ago, trying to belong in a place not meant for him, struggling to fit in.

She broke the meaningful silence to slip in a warning, “This may hurt a bit.”

Nikolai couldn’t care less about the pain. Even when the needle pricked into his skin, he was much too distracted to notice the sting. He wanted to reassure her, like he would have wanted someone to do for him. “People respect you. Your crew, your competition.”

She smiled. “Thanks. But people respect Albatross. And most of the time, after they meet me, they change their minds. I don’t care, though. I have no problem proving people wrong.”

“You proved me wrong. And I am not usually wrong.”

“Is that so? How did I manage such a feat, then?”

“You were you. I like it.”

Nikolai took the chance to look at her, really take her in. She did not object, going on with her work like normal. He supposed she looked a bit younger than him. Might be her doe eyes. Might be her cheerful smile. He wasn’t too sure.

But Tamar was right. This girl was incredible. Cheeky, witty and kind. He had expected her to be vicious and ruthless because that was the only way he knew how to survive as a privateer. Yet, she was respectful and humble to everyone from strangers like him, Tamar and Tolya to every last member of her crew. She most definitely earned the respect she had. There was no doubt about that.

Nikolai’s continued silence worried her a bit. She had gotten used to him running his mouth nonstop, probably even preferred having him chew her ear off rather than staying in this odd silence. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged his other shoulder. “Because I like to.”

Y/N removed both of her hands. “You can stop, you know. Staring at me won’t make your tattoo any prettier. It’s done anyways.”

“May I look now?”

Y/N wiped a cool, damp towel over his skin and gave a final glance at her work, a sweet smile spreading across her lips. “You may.”

Nikolai peered over his shoulder, seeing the black ink forming the outline of a beautiful fox. He looked up at her to find her removing the gloves, placing her tools back into the box.

“I didn’t want to color it in. Might make it too difficult for your Tailor to remove, your Highness.”

In all of his years as Sturmhond, no one had ever shocked him with his own identity. The disguise was immaculate. His hair, his eyes, his nose-for Saints’ sake-looked like it had been twisted and bent several times. Yet, as startled as he was, Nikolai couldn’t afford to blow his cover now by getting all worked up. So he played it cool, the only way he knew how. “I am flattered that you think I am a Prince. Tell me, is it the handsome face that gave it away?”

“No need to play pretend. I know who you are, Nikolai Lantsov,” Y/N said, leaning in like she did at the bar. But this time, her soft lips were directly on his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Lucky for you, I don’t kiss and tell. Unless-”

Nikolai laughed, placing a finger underneath her jaw, connecting their gaze. “I believe I know a couple of ways to keep your mouth busy.”

“Like what?” she whispered.

She smiled when Nikolai sat up, attaching their lips finally in a long-awaited kiss. The night may have ended for Sturmhond but it had only just begun fro Nikolai Lantsov and his mysterious privateer.

taglist: @milkbaer @5hundreddaysofsummer

add yourself to my taglist!

[misselko]

LIONESS

Warnings: Angst, fluff, small violence

Words: 20.130

 

“Begin.”

Loud clashing of lances can be heard through Garreg Mach hallway.

The red-haired skirt chaser barely able to hear you said it when you rushed him. Sylvain knew that he should focus on his strikes.  He didn’t have time to be impressed at this small, petite girl that is jabbing her lance so fast against him. Devastatingly fast. And strikingly strong. ‘It is such a wonder how a small, petite body like hers held so much power’. That’s the last thing that passed his mind before (Y/N)’s lance has cracked so loudly against his that he thought it might snap. Beautiful, fierce, deadly (E/C) orbs that staring into his soul has captivated the Gautier heir and got him hard knock on his shin, felling him over.

“Whoa there! I yield. You do like it rough, don’t you, (Y/N)?” Sylvain raise his hands on the air with and winks seductively. Rolling your eyes, you put a light tap on his neck at his remarks.

“Though she be but little, she is fierce. (Y/N) is the youngest among us, but she is indeed a Lioness!” Dimitri claps over your third in a row winning for today. You beat Felix in sword and Dimitri in the lance spar.

“That’s what you get for skipping classes, Sylvain. And.. keep up with your solid techniques, excellent moves, and rapid quick footwork, (Y/N). That’s all for our combat class today,” said Professor.

“She’s a few inch shorter than me but she had effortlessly defeated Blue Lions’ strongest lancer and swordsman! That’s my favourite lil sis (Y/N) for you!! ” said Annette giddily. She hugs you in a death grip embrace and sings her silly song.

Everyone are so nice to you, to the point of spoiled rotten! Especially Ingrid and Mercie! They are like your big sisters, always offering their help to ride pegasi and give endless supplies of baked sweets that you love very much. Felix is kinda harsh and always eager to spar with you, but he’s the first person to get angry when someone bullies you because you are so small. So kind, almost feel like a big brother! Dimitri helps you with your late night studies and picking books in the higher shelves on the library a lot. Dedue and Ashe cook dinner together with you on your duty day.

They see (Y/N) as the sweet smol bean that has to be protected at all cost!

“Are you free tonight, Munchkin?” Care to join me to visit the town and get something to eat? I know this little restaurant that has nice dessert! My treat, of course! Think of it as a token of congratulations from me on your brilliance today!” Sylvain put his hand on your shoulder in a friendly gesture and wink seductively.

“Seteth will scold us for sure, Syl! This is the fourth or fifth time we went for a late dinner this week,” you pout at his invitation. “He won’t. I’ll walk you back before curfew as usual. Don’t want my Kitten to get  hurt on her way back. Night walk can be dangerous, you know.”

“Why you are being so nice to me, Syl... Your girls will be upset and kill me for sure.”

“Nah.. I don’t have any! It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful evening alone. Besides, I don’t want to let my Munchkin starved in her sleep! Not to mention that you just looked awfully cute with your cheeks stuffed.” You smacked his shin and rewarded with a loud yelp from him.  “Lead the way. And.. it’s not like I like it or something like that, you know! Don’t get any wrong ideas,” you hide your blush and took his huge hand in your tiny ones.

The food was delightful as usual and Sylvain stay true to his words about going back before the curfew.

As you both closed the large door’s that marked the dormitory, you were greeted by the crisp spring night. Warm wind passed over your forms, and crickets chirped in the night.

“While we’re at it, how about a little board games rematch at my quarters? I got a new strategy to show you, Syl!”

“Bring it on then, (Y/N)! Let’s bring some sweet buns as usual to snack on later as well, then.”

“It’s a deal!”

“I’d think playing it on the bed would be more comfortable than doing it on the floor. You might catch another cold and passed out like last month in my room. It scared the living daylights out of me! Nope, never trying that again.”

“It’s not fun being frail and get sick easily.” You sigh.

“No problem. Think of it as a good chance for me to get to carry you around in my arms. For our weddi-- Ouch!!” he faux a sad face melodramatically when you punch his hand away playfully. “You might be small and petite but these hands are a force to be reckoned with. You’re as strong as a lioness,” said the philanderer as he ruffled your hair affectionately.

 

It was such a beautiful night.

---

“Do you have a moment, Miss (Y/N)? I have something important to tell you regarding my research and your Crest. We can discuss it in more detailed manner in my research room,” Professor Hanneman ask you out of the blue after the afternoon battle strategy class.

 

“Crest? But I’m sure I don’t have any, Professor! It’s stated as clear as a day in my enrollment documents, isn’t it?”

 

“There’s a mistake, Miss (Y/N). And I sworn it on my name as the Father of Crestology, you do HAVE a Crest. A Major one at that! Congratulations! I have sent a letter to your family and inform other Professors and your House Leader regarding this matter. I have my suspicion about your Crests since I watch your  prowess at combat and when it activates, the timing, and the flash of....”

 

You are a bit shocked about this and decided to ignore this fact, having a hard time to process this shocking information. Your family and other members of Blue Lions will be very surprised of this information. Is it going to be a good thing or not? Professor Hanneman’s murmurs fell on your deaf ears as you politely excuse yourself out of his room. ‘It’ll be better to keep this as a secret to avoid unwanted attention nor unnecessary commotion’ you think to yourself.

---

Moons have passed. Then the night of the ball came. Urged by your curiosity, you are eager to wait for your true love at the Goddess Tower. You were hardly expecting to see Sylvain, of all people. The surprise at seeing each other was mutual. The both of you stood there for a moment, simply enjoying the scene before you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to stave off the chill that went down your spine, shuffling closer to the older man.

 

“Do you even believe the rumors about this place?” he asked as he lay his uniform coat over your shivering form. “My curiosity gets the best of me. But am glad to find you here, Syl.”

 

“Huh.” Sylvain went quiet, his face etched with contemplation. After he thought about it a little, he let out a huff of breath and frowned.

 

“Well, the person I’m interested in... is already here. You’re here alone. I’m here alone. I was thinking maybe....”

“Wait. Me?”

“Well, of course! We’re the only two people here, aren’t we? I keep thinking about it, and it just makes sense. My Crest and yours...”

“How did you...?”

“Dimitri told me. I have confirmed it with Professor Hanneman as well. A Major one, he said. So lucky.”

He looked down at you menacingly. Your eyes were averted away from his, looking away into the distance. “What do you mean? I’m still me, Syl.  Crest or no Crest.”

Despite your dismissive answer, something changed in his expression. He took his hands from behind his neck and stalked towards you. This wasn’t at all like the kind and flirty Sylvain you loved. He’s... different.

“You know what? I’m a bit jealous. The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you. I kind of hate you for that...” he slammed you hard against the wall behind you. Strangled pained noise came from you.

His knees rest on either side of your petite body and his arms cage your head, his much bigger hand grasp yours roughly. “All you’re worth to me is a little bit of fun. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we? I thought that you understood,” Sylvain’s face a mere inch from yours, glaring daggers at you. You can feel your tears begin welling, threatening to spill at his words.

 

“Is that really what you think of me? I thought... I was different. So… our friendship has just been for nothing?” you muttered quietly, holding back your sobs.

 

He scoffed. “Of course you are. You’re just some dumb noble looking for crest babies. You never meant anything to me.” His rejection was validation of your worst fear, that you were just like every other girl. Your friendship had all fallen apart and meant nothing for him.

 

“Playing around with girls is the most fun a guy can have. Besides, I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t intend to change how I live my life. I’m a good-for-nothing, if you haven’t noticed, but I’m still a noble with a Crest. That’s all anyone cares about. It’s best to avoid getting too serious with fools like me.” His expression darkens and unreadable. The carefree mask was long gone.

 

“My Crest bring me nothing but pain. I thought maybe...if I made someone else suffer, it might help me feel better.” His hand shot up and grabbed you by your throat. Sylvain held you in front of him, tightened his grip, choking you hard. His caramel eyes glowed dark with excitement.

 

“Unnnghhh......Syl....”

You tried to squirm away but he clamped his hand tighter, making it harder for you to breathe. Your legs felt weak and limp. The pain was too intense.

 

“You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I’ll collect the debt.” His expression dark as he looked up at you.

 

Focusing yourself, you punch his jaw as hard as you can. To your surprise, a blinding flash of your Crest shows up when you smack him as hard as you can, making Sylvain flinch in pain, dropping you with a loud thud on the cold floor. You stumbled back and dropped to your knees. Gasping for air, you tried to rub the pain from your throat, doing your best to pick yourself up.

 

“Sylvain Jose Gautier!  I care not for your Crest nor title! It means nothing to me. I like.. no, love you because you are the strongest, kindest, funniest, and the most caring person that I know. Even you are such a skirt chaser, but you always very considerate and protective of me. I never felt this way before about someone. This is my first time but... This… This was a mistake. Sorry. I hope.. you find your own happiness someday,” you said, your voice is raspy from his deadly grip and your sadness. Tears were finally flowing freely from you.

 

Sylvain’s posture becoming rigid despite his feigned relaxed position. “H-hey,” Sylvain said, his voice softened somewhat. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry...”, he tried to pat your head, but you step back instinctively. The red head flinch and turned away when he saw angry purplish hue on your neck. Guilt began creeping on his conscience.

 

“I believe you. You’re not a bad person, Sylvain, no matter what anyone says. I care about you. Our friendship, dinners, late nights walk and banters... I cherished them a lot. Really, I do. I love you, Sylvain.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look at anything besides the floor. “That’s what I came to tell you, but... nevermind. Good night, Syl. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

 

“Did you mean that? (Y/N), wait!” He spoke with disbelief.

“Why would I lie?” you asked, hardly audible. “Goodbye, Syl.”

 

His pleas fell on deaf ears as you dash yourself as fast as possible from Goddess Tower, locking yourself inside your quarters, clutching to Sylvain’s uniform coat, while crying yourself to sleep.

---

That’s the last thing that you can remember from your Academy Days. Things were never the same since that night. You never talk to the playboy ever again since that incident. No more night walks or late board games. When you have to work together in weekly duty, there’s an unseen awkward distance and heavy tension between you two.

 

The notorious philanderer went back into his old ways, going around with a different girl each day. You often catch him glimpse at you with eyes full of remorse and sadness (mostly when he thinks you aren’t looking or noticing). Everyone in the Blue Lions noticed the changes between your relationship but being very considerate of your feelings and trying to not mention anything about it.

 

Your Father called you back home because of his grave illness in Pegasus Moon, insisting you to leave the Officers Academy behind. Blue Lions was taken aback and sad with your abrupt leave. Going back to your home in Fhirdiad, days flies in a blur motion into moons and years.

---

It’s been 5 years since you left your Academy days in Garreg Mach.

A bloody coup led by Cornelia causes Duke Rufus and Dimitri both to be apparently killed. Her  tyranny left Fhirdiad in poor state with poverty and famine. Holy Kingdom of Faerghus thrown into disarray condition with their Prince’s disappearance. The nation is plagued by civil strife and hardship.

 

With the vast majority of the former Kingdom lords having bent the knee to the overwhelming power of the Empire, all Blaiddyd territory, including the Kingdom capital, is ruled by those who are cooperating with the Empire, and is thus renamed the Faerghus Dukedom. Houses Fraldarius and Gautier were left to spearhead the resistance as the primary opponents of the Dukedom.

 

As the legitimate Marchioness of your major noble house in Blaiddyd territory after her Father’s passing, (Y/N) decided to keep on fighting against Empire until the bitter end, along with Houses of Fraldarius, Gautier, and Galatea. You keep maintain close relationships them, mostly with the neighbouring Houses, Fraldarius and Galatea. Whether it may be reinforcements soldiers to House Fraldarius or stock supplies to House Galatea, you are so much eager to give it all (sometimes by going there personally—much to your advisors’ dismay) to aid them.  Being always giving or adding the most relevant information about current war state developments made you overjoyed when you heard about the news of Dimitri’s plan to recapture Fhirdiad.

---

It’s been forever since your last time fighting on the battlefield. Reclaiming the capital is a daunting task with shortage of soldiers and resources. Rodrigue’s death is a devastating blow to Faerghus’ military strength and resources. Not to mention that House Gautier and Galatea has any resources to spare. With limited resource of your own House, you decided to prioritize evacuation of Faerghus’ citizens and helping Blue Lions to the utmost.

 

Dimitri marches for Fhirdiad, causing the oppressed citizens to revolt against Cornelia’s tyranny People are rebelling against Cornelia and Fhirdiad has turned into a gruesome battlefield. Fire was everywhere The sound of metals echoed loudly in your ears. Large Titanus crowded the streets and wreaking havoc upon buildings and citizens. With your sword in your hands, you leap and cut through Kingdom Soldiers that is preparing to activate Viskam turrets against Felix.

 

You pushed forward with great caution. When you are done helping a pair of elders and children under the rubbles to evacuate, you saw him. Sylvain. Fighting over a mage and a large Titanus all by himself. Did he get separated? He barely dodged a fireball when you strike down that mage.

 

“Munchki--!” He gasped, surprised to see you back.

“Watch out, Syl!”

You leap in front of him, parrying and slash back at the Titanus’ large appendages that is going to smash him. Sylvain cast a Ragnarok and taking down the golem-like creature with a loud explosion, sending flying debris everywhere. He gasped, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the way. 

 

“Ugh... that hurts. Are you okay, Munchkin?” He was trapped under the rubbles and the first thing that he asked is your safety?

“W-why did you do that, Syl? You got hurt protecting me. Didn’t you want to kill me?”, you said as you helped him out from the rubble.  Fortunately he is okay aside from a few scratch and bruises.

 

“When I thought you were going to be killed for real, my reflexes kicked in. I reacted without thinking. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being jealous of you. But, come on, I can’t help looking up to you.” He look at you with eyes full of worry and sadness.

 

“Sylvain..... Well.. It’s been awhile, but as much as I want to chat with you, we have to help Professor and Dimitri first. Cornelia has brought us so many sufferings. Now’s the time to put an end to all of this. And... thank you, Syl.” He nods and push forward to throw his lance at a Pegasus Knight that is fighting against Ingrid.

 

“I will go to deactivate Titanus’ lever. I know its location and it will help everyone tremendously against that gigantic monster! I’ll open Fhirdiad’s secret passages within my House territory to help everyone to get better access to Cornelia. When I’m done with it, I’ll regroup with reinforcement soldiers from my House to evacuate more citizens on the east side of Royal Capital, then go to help Dimitri fighting against Cornelia. See you later, Syl. Please stay safe.” You bid your farewell and run through smaller alley path, doing your missions, leaving Sylvain astonished at your very thorough, detailed plans.

 

Without the Titanus, Cornelia only has archers as her backups. As you take the archers down with Felix and Annette, Professor and Dimitri are working together to close in on her and take her down. It was a gruesome battle, but thanks to everyone’s efforts, casualties were kept to minimum and reclaiming Fhirdiad is a big success after Cornelia has been defeated.

---

It may be spring, but the nights are quite chilly here in Fhirdiad. The people are rejoicing at the return of their King. After a hard won battle of reclaiming Royal Capital of Fhirdiad, celebratory feast shows no sign of stopping. Growing weary of the festivities, you decided to excuse yourself from the banquet at the castle balcony.

“Munchkin. Here you are. His Highness has been looking for you. He wanted to express his gratitude for your loyalty and huge help at reclaiming Fhirdiad.”

“Good evening, Syl. We just did our utmost to help. Fhirdiad’s  peace and safety of the Blue Lions is of the most important thing for me, after all.”

A moment of silence passed where both of you stayed still, just basking in the moonlight and enjoying each others’ presence for a while.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” You are taken aback when Sylvain bows his head deeply in front of you.

“I know I messed up really bad and it’s fair enough if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me. My jealousy got the best of me and it has brought you so much harm. Most girls just want me for my title or my Crest, and when I thought that it was the same for you, I… I was the one who made a mistake. I’m sorry, truly I am.” Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you could see the furrow of Sylvain’s brows, the frowning twist of his lips. It was a look you’d never seen on him. Regret and pain. He looks so vulnerable. Somehow, you didn’t doubt the apology.

“Please elaborate, Syl.”

“Since I bear a Crest, my parents made sure I was never left wanting. My older brother didn’t have one, and so when I was born, he was pushed aside. My mere existence stole everything from him. There’s so many people that want to get close to me because of my crest. Because of something I didn’t even want to be born with. I wish I could have cared as little about my Crest as you do yours...,” he grimaces, running a hand through his hair briskly. “Women smile at me for the same reason my parents adored me...and my brother wanted me dead. And I have to meet them all with a smile because I have a Crest.” Sylvain purses his lips.

 

“But you–you’ve never treated me differently. Always being there for me and understand me, and…and–I like you, (Y/N). No. I love you so much that it scared me. A lot,” he says, closing his eyes.

 

“You say that, but it doesn’t excuse the things you’ve done.” You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to let him see mixed expression you were making at  his sudden confession but you knew he was looking at you. Intently.

 

“I was devastated when you left Garreg Mach years ago. I lost you once and I won’t let it happen again. So.... what I’m saying is…” he hesitated and briefly appeared at a loss of words which is very unlike of him.

He hugs you closer very tightly it hurts, cradling you gently against his chest. This close, you can feel the rapid pace of his heart and his nervousness. “Can you give me a second chance?” Sylvain’s touch was awkward and clumsy.

“......I will. But first… Please let me go, Syl. You are crushing me.”

Sylvain paused, as if unsure. “Did you mean that?” Vulnerability colored his tone, softened it. “I’d like to be a man who deserves that. Who deserves you. Even if you want nothing to do with me, one day I will find a way to make it up to you, to earn your forgiveness. I promise.” His voice wasn’t strong with his infamous flirtatious bravado. It was sincere.

 

“You’re so much more than just your Crest or your status, Sylvain Jose Gautier.” Taking his much bigger hand in your tiny ones, you smiled and whisper it against his hand. “You are the most amazing, kind, strongest, and nice man for me. Your path is your own.  I love you just the way you are, Sylvain. Crest or no Crest.” His face turned dark red instantly redder than his hair at your words. Sylvain.exe has stopped working

“You are going to be the death of me, Munchkin!!” Sylvain yells frantically. You can see his ears flushed furious red. He can die happy now. Goddess Sothis please take his soul.

“Why you still call me Munchkin, Syl?” you asked much to your curiousity. “It’s been years but you barely grow a few inch! But y-Ouch!! He yelps when you jab at his stomach. “But you have... grown into a fine, smart, and beautiful woman.”

 

“Time hasn’t been so kind to me in these past years, Syl. After my Father’s passing, I have to succeed him. Being a Marchioness isn’t an easy task but I learned so much and am still learning.”

 

“My sincerest condolences for your loss. But... he must be very proud of you, Munchkin. You will be a great Marchioness. Strong, thorough, quick-witted, and lovely as a—”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Gautier.” You rolled your eyes at him. The redhead laughs softly and embrace you in his arms.

 

“When this war is over, will you come with me to my homeland? It’s time for the first step in the right direction. I don’t want to marry a girl who wants to use me for my Crest or a girl who someone else chose for me. I want to marry someone I really care about. With you by my side, I’m excited to find out what this new way of life is all about. (Y/N), I’m serious. Marry me. I’d do anything for you. I’m done lying, especially to myself. I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together trying to make you happy. I promise.”

 

 “I’d like to.... introduce you to my parents. They’d love to have a new Gauti—Gyaahh!!!” He shrieked when you stomped your feet on him. “I’m so DONE with you, Syl!!” you said with exasperated look, looking away trying to hide the rising heat in your cheeks. ‘A future with Sylvain...’

 

There’s a pause when you catch his gaze and find something vulnerable there, something familiar. The flicker of hope, mirrored in your expression. It’s as if everything falls into place and clicks. Then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant, so unlike his usual self. Your eyes fluttered shut, your lips moulding against his, as his hand came up to cup your cheek. It was all the confession you needed.

 

“I will, Syl. I promise.”

---

Bonus:

When Professor and the Blue Lions heard about your new relationship with Sylvain, they offer you heartfelt congratulations and throw a little dinner party. Dimitri is OVERJOYED and sobs a little when he saw you are radiating with so much happiness. Back then in your Academy days, he was the one who worry about you the most when Sylvain treated you poorly, after all. Ashe and Dedue throw a lavish dinner to celebrate (Y/N) and Sylvain’s relationship that evening. Mercedes and Annette provide everyone with tasty sweets and dessert. It was a heartwarming small party among Blue Lions members.

Sadly, Sylvain didn’t get to celebrate it together. Rumors had it that Felix and Ingrid has beaten him to a bloody pulp (with Professor’s EXCLUSIVE permission) because he made you their lovely sweet lil sis wept and hurt. Sylvain kept on mumbling something between “Don’t ever hitting another girl”, “RUIN his Lance of Ruin”, “Don’t ever taint her”, or “You’re finished”. Even the kind and benevolent Mercie turned her back and refuse to heal Sylvain. The Gautier heir almost went to hell that evening.

 

The poor, traumatized philanderer will changing his ways for the better for sure.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[ismokechurros]

misunderstandings - ao3

When his mark first appeared, he hated it. He was five and didn't quite like that the first thing he would ever hear his soulmate say would be

"I'm sorry."

What did that mean? Would his soulmate hurt him? Would that be the very first thing they did? That can't bode well for a long term relationship. 

Besides that depressing thought, another issue he had with it was how common it was. People apologized every day, how was he supposed to find her?

His first mistake was thinking it was his kindergarten teacher, who apologized after he ran into her feet. It was hard to explain to his parents why he got sent to the principal's office on his first day of school, hugging a teacher's leg and professing your undying love for them isn't exactly a common offense. 

After that, he tried not to get too excited when he heard those words. And as time went by, he succeeded. Slowly, his head stopped shooting up everytime someone near him apologized, his heart rate stopped skyrocketing when a passerby said sorry, he grew to feel the general disdain and doubt most feel in accompaniment with apologies. 

Those two, meaningless words scrawled at the top of his right bicep were left ignored and he went on forgetting they existed for the better part of 17 years.

----------

She was five when her mark appeared, too, though that seemed to be a common age for the mark's development so she wasn't exactly surprised. What she was surprised by was the 

"You're okay."

now sprawled on the bottom right side of her neck. An odd place for an odd mark. 

In her five-year-old indignation, she resented the fact that her mark was telling her what she was. She could be not okay if she wanted to be, who was her soulmate to tell her that she wasn't! 

A stupid fight to pick, and one she dropped after about two minutes. That was how long it took before the girl next to Nancy screamed and then started crying. Apparently, Amy didn't like that the first words her soulmate would say to her would be asking for her starbucks order. 

Nancy decided it could be worse.

---------

Working at The Claw can't be that bad, Nancy thinks as she enters the restaurant for her first day at work. She needs to get her mind off of her mother's death and making a few bucks in the process couldn't hurt. Plus, it would help ease the financial burden of college- if she still stood a chance of getting in, that is. Her senior grades (and attendance rate) weren't exactly "Columbia Material", no matter how good her essay was. 

Walking from the door to the back room, Nancy makes sure to take into account everything she sees on the way. Two truckers eating greasy cheeseburgers at the counter; a woman drinking coffee alone at a table; a family celebrating their daughter's graduation in a booth. Another reminder of the life Nancy won't get to lead.

Reaching up, Nancy rubs the side of her neck where she knows, under several layers of foundation, there's a reminder that she's okay. Her soul mark has grown to be something of a saviour for her these past couple months. A reassurance everytime it seemed her demons were getting a little too close to snuffing out her light, her crutch at her most debilitating moments. Nancy thinks, whoever her soulmate is, they must be a decent person if they’re able to give her this much comfort.

“Drew! Your uniform’s in the back, I’m not paying you to stand there and look pretty! You did enough of that in high school!” 

Ah yes, George. No matter how many times Nancy tries to proclaim her innocence, George refuses to believe she didn’t play a part in spreading the rumors that ruined her life in high school. And honestly, maybe she was right. Nancy may not have spread any rumors, but she definitely didn’t stop them. Maybe she does deserve George’s wrath. Besides, what’s another person added to the list of “People Nancy Drew Has Failed”. George can go right under her mom. 

At this rate, she might need to put more foundation on her mark.

“Now, Drew!”

Eh, she’ll do it at lunch.

-----------

One month in and Nancy thinks she’s got the job down pat. She’s at least doing better than some people. 

Dishes clatter in the kitchen as pots hit the floor. 

“Oops! Sorry!”

Speak of the devil. Nancy goes to the kitchen to help Bess, because Bess has needed nothing but help since the day George gave her the job, but when she opens the door she's met with a peculiar scene.

Bess, the endearing clutz she is, is on the floor trying to pick up the pots but somehow making a bigger mess. Ace, on the other hand, is just staring.

Nancy hasn’t known Ace very long, hasn’t even talked to him directly, but from what she’s seen he’s at least helpful. He cleans up after himself, stays late to do inventory, cleans out the grease traps, all without complaining. Yet here he is, staring at Bess on the floor and doing nothing.

Nancy wants to call out, ask why he isn’t helping, or at the very least say excuse me on her way to help Bess collect the pans, but oddly enough she can’t find the words. She just stares at him with that confused look on her face. 

It seems she doesn’t need to say anything, though. As if the question on her face was spoken aloud, Ace snaps out of his reverie and bends to help Bess. He’s smiling at her a little too much, and Nancy can tell where this is heading before he even opens his mouth. She decides to make a clean exit before she’s forced to watch him try and fail to shoot his shot with her royal waitress Bess.

------

Nancy just needs a minute. She needs a second to breathe. Serving her high school friends and having to listen to their patronizing and pitying tones while she can hear them laughing the second she turns around is not what she signed up for.

To make matters worse, she’s about one more rub away from her mark making its presence known and she doesn’t need the added stares today. She doesn’t quite understand the taboo of revealing your soulmark to others, but today may not be the best day to tackle generations worth of unnecessary forced modesty.

She rushes through the back door, the mocking sounds of laughter cut off as the door swings shut behind her. Apparently god isn’t on her side, though, because the second the door shuts, the freezer opens and Bess exits carrying boxes stacked a good foot higher than her. Boxes that topple over as she tries to close the freezer behind her.

Normally, Nancy would help Bess out. God knows she’s gotten used to it, and Bess is a nice enough girl that Nancy doesn’t totally hate doing it. But right now, the noise from the boxes is too loud and sounds suspiciously like laughter and Nancy can’t really breathe so she doesn’t think getting near the cold, thin air of the freezer is gonna help her.

And so she ignores Bess’ apologies and pleading eyes and instead barges through the backdoor, hoping to get some much needed air in the alleyway behind The Claw. Instead, she faceplants into a cotton cladded wall.

“I’m sorry.” 

She maneuvers around the person she ran into, avoiding eye contact and desperate for some space. She reaches the wall across from the door and puts a hand on the cool brick hoping it’ll help ground her. Leaning forward against the wall, the other hand immediately goes to her neck.

“You’re okay.”

Suddenly, struggling to breathe is less of an issue than not breathing altogether. 

Nancy slowly turns and stares at the man who she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Ace slowly blinks back.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. Nancy can’t really respond, considering the fact that she can’t breathe.

“Woah, Nancy. You don’t look so hot.” Great, my soulmate thinks I’m ugly. Nancy urges herself to use her actual brain for a second instead of whatever it is she’s using now because obviously that one isn’t working.

Still, she says nothing. Ace takes the silence as an invitation to lean against the wall across from her. They continue to stare at each other; her like a deer in the headlights and him entirely too mellow for someone who just found their soulmate. Unless he didn’t.

That’s not a thought Nancy wants to have. But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop thinking about it. Does it work like that? Can the whole soulmate thing go unrequited? Some memory escapes the precipes of her mind, a brief chapter on soulmate history she had to read for class. It was her senior history class, so she didn’t really pay attention, but she does remember reading something in there about a rare percentage of the population that had one sided soul marks.  She also remembers thinking about how sad of a life they must lead.

And it's not like she's wrong about this, especially since Nancy’s heart feels like it’s about to explode and she instinctively knows the only thing that can calm her down is standing there, staring at her with glazed eyes.

“Want one?” Ace asks, materializing a blunt out of seemingly thin air. “They always help calm me down.” 

Now the glazed eyes make more sense. Nancy reaches for it without thinking, the brief touch of their fingertips as the weed changes hands works wonders for calming her down. She is finally thinking a little clearer, breathing a little easier. She stands taller and some of the tension escapes her body.

“See? Works wonders for the nerves.”

If he wants to attribute her abrupt demeanor shift to his weed, she won’t correct him. Instead, she thinks about how this is the first real time he has talked to her. She wishes it happened sooner, his voice reminds her of waves crashing on the shore and when he talks she thinks she’s found her happy place. She’s never hated herself more.

Taking a hit, she passes the blunt back to him and relishes in the little contact that brings about. How lame is it that she’s pining for a guy who is destined to be with someone else. 

“You seem more relaxed now, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m here.”

She does. She wants to talk about how she feels more  at ease and safe with him, here in this alleyway, than anywhere else; how she hasn’t felt peace like this since her mom died; how he has a calming effect on her that she wishes she could use like a drug; how she’s scared it might become one.

But she can’t talk to him about that at all, because she knows that though her soul finds peace with his, his soul fits better with someone else's. She doesn’t want to guilt him into any half-assed relationship, figures it would be better to become his friend and get to experience the safety and comfort he exudes at a safe arms-length away.

Instead, she talks about the ways everything has gone wrong in the past year (she avoids bringing up how he could have been her first right thing in a while). He listens as he smokes through the whole blunt, his eyes getting heavier as she continues. She’s confident he won’t remember anything tomorrow, thankful she won’t have to explain her near-meltdown. But above all-else, she’s sad. She really is doomed to go through life alone, she doesn’t get anyone to help shoulder her pain. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

When she finishes her sob story, he thanks her for sharing it with him. She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid of what she might reveal if she opens her mouth again.

“DREW!” An angry George calls from inside.

“That’s my cue.” She makes to leave but is stopped by an arm on her hand. She tries to ignore her heart screaming.

“Hey, I really liked talking to you. We haven’t really done that before.”

She nods, trying to make it seem like she just doesn’t want to talk and not like she physically can’t (not while he’s touching her).

He doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he stares at her with more consciousness in his eyes than she thought he would be capable of by now. 

“You’re not alone. I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to hear that.” His voice is soft and quiet and warm, low tide at sunrise.

Nancy’s eyes widen (though her heart warms) and he let’s go. She heads inside without another word, hand rubbing her neck on the way in.

Nancy decides to invest in neck ties.

[angsty-omi]

truth or drink.

kuroo tetsuro x reader

tw: suggestive content, exes, cursing

you heard about this interview game show on youtube through your good friends. watching it your first time with them, it was so blatantly obvious that they were still in love.

you pointed your drumstick at the TV screen, “it’s so obvious that she still likes him, look at her posture!” your voice muffled with a mouth full of ice cream.

“that’s what’s fun about these videos! plus it’s kinda sweet that they rekindle the fire through an intense game of truth or dare” hinata replied.

“truth or drink” you emphasized, “and plus, they’re exes for a reason, nonetheless. just because you try again, doesn’t mean there will always be a different outcome. if there was an issue that both parties couldn’t get over, what makes it okay now in front of a camera? men ain’t shit, and honestly so are the girls who participate in these. no self worth honestly.”

“wow... y/n it’s very obvious you’re projecting your feelings about your breakup with kuroo onto these fun challenges,” kageyama spoke for the first time that night.

and he was right. you were still in the mourning period over your breakup. every romantic song, couple, and certain aphrodisiacs were out to get you because it reminded you of him. to ease the pain, you expressed your hurt through bitchiness to others. not only were you a bitch, but a hypocrite.

how? because two years later you were sitting across the table from kuroo, with a camera to your right and shots to your left. you didn’t even know how you got into this position. one night you were super drunk and missed him. submissions were open and your intention was to see him again. other than that, it was all a blur.

as the director read the rules of the game, your’s and kuroo’s eyes were boring into each other, and you were nervous about how he felt currently being in such a vulnerable position.

“first off, we’ll introduce you guys and your back story,” the director instructed.

[where did you guys meet?]

“we-

“she was-”

you both interrupted each other. you lent out your hand as a gesture that he could say it.

“she was actually watching a game of mine, our school was against hers and her seat just happened to be directly in front of my eyesight. she looked beautiful and i-”

“now i have to stop you there, i was not beautiful. i had a bunch of acne and a crooked tooth”

*you look straight at the camera*

“since when are those features not beautiful?” kuroo mocked, making him seem like the best guy in front of the cameras.

you only rolled your eyes and let him go on.

“on our last set, it was a close game. the score was 25-24 nekoma and i needed one more hit. when kenma set it to me, i hit it. the winning spike. that’s when i looked at her, pointed, and blew a kiss. and the rest was history”

you smiled at that memory. it was actually a really sweet moment. you’ve never really felt seen or unique, but he made you feel like the most important person in the world, and you’ll always cherish that.

[when did you guys break up?]

“around 2-3 years ago, it was a while ago” you responded.

*you both immediately grabbed the shots next to each other and clanked the glass together, before downing it*

you chuckled, because of how you both knew this was going to be hard.

*you picked up the top card*

“pffffftttttt rate me in bed, and how i can improve?”

“i would honestly say you’re a good 9? it was very passionate and soft except for the times it wasn’t”

*kuroo winked at the camera, while you punched his shoulder*

“i just wish you let me hit it in the back more”

*you hid your face in complete embarrassment with the card*

“next.”

*kuroo swiped the next card*

the smile on his face immediately turned into stone when he read the card.

“are you attracted to any of my friends?” he said with a pinch of pettiness.

“HAHAhahahaha...” you slowly grab the tequila bottle next to you.

his face conveyed mild irritation with a “🙂” face on him.

“weren’t you attracted to kyoko?” you dramatically raised an eyebrow.

then he grabbed the bottle from your hand. you didn’t feel jealous at all, in fact, you too were attracted to kyoko.

“please censor the name during the final editing” you smiled at the director, and you swore they just blushed.

*you grabbed the next card*

“what’s the most annoying thing about me?”

“you would always just kiss me to avoid conflict. like, when you washed your pink clothes with my white shirts and i called you out on it, we ended up just fucking and i forgot completely about it”

“so you’re saying it worked” you fist bumped the air.

“what about me?” kuroo asked.

“i guess, if i had to name something it’d be your loud snores, loud chewing, forgetting to buy groceries, screaming at our television because kenma missed his sho-”

“okay okay i get it,” stopping you from continuing.

there were only a few more cards left when kuroo picked up the next one.

“are you happy for me now? be honest.”

“of course! you’re literally a professional volley player, basically a celebrity. i am honored i am one of the few that got to know you. you deserve everything that you have and you’re the realest person out there, tetsu” slipping out his nickname so casually, that you mentally screamed.

“thank you y/n, i really appreciate that.” he put his hand on yours with a warming smile, making it seem like he ignored it for your sake.

[why did you guys break up]

that was very tough question. both you stayed silent for a good second, wondering who will talk first.

“i-i’ll go first,

kuroo had been offered a job, fresh off of high school, while i decided to choose the local college. the job was to be a profession volleyball player... for the states. at first, he wasn’t going to take it, because it was too far from me. during our last few months of senior year, rumors about me and kenma circled around. nothing actually happened, but when kuroo asked me, i didn’t respond and...” you hesitated, kuroo’s eyes expressed the same pain from all those years ago.

you bit your lip before continuing, “because letting him think that made him let go and i couldn’t let myself hold him back y’know? it was just a situational breakup and i’m glad i made that decision. all was forgiven between him and kenma shortly after that by the way, just not with him and me.” you giggled at the end, to seemingly make it less awkward. your eyes were glossy— but, you had to confess your biggest secret.

you tried to look for a response from kuroo, but he just stayed silent. desperation started to tingle your skin.

then, kuroo did respond, by getting up from his seat and leaving you there, alone. tears now were freely falling on your face, in front of tons of people nonetheless.

“listen y/n, we can just not post this for privacy.” the director comforted.

“no it’s okay, a deals a deal kenma.” you waved off and left abruptly.

you slammed the doors open to the outside, with a cool breeze hitting your tears. you crouched in a position sobbing, while gasping for breath. he was the love of your life, and the thought of him never forgiving you really hurt.

“y/n”

you knew that voice. it was the same one just minutes ago laughing. you were so mentally drained that you thought you were hallucinating. it was only then when he wrapped his arms around you. you missed this. you missed the warmth of kuroo’s bear hugs.

“if you told me to stay i would’ve.” kuroo whispered into your ear.

“i know you would’ve, t-that’s why i h-had to do what i had to do. and now look at you, you’re rich, famous and... and” you stopped.

“you don’t have to say it y/n.” kuroo raised his voice in a serious manner.

“i-i have to or else i will never accept it nor get any closure.” you sighed, pushing him back out. looking into his eyes, they were also full of remorse, conflict, and sorrow.

as you try muster up the words, he crashed his lips against yours. immediately, you retaliate, knowing that it’s selfish but this was the last time you were ever going to be this vulnerable. the kiss screamed pain, and both of you tasted each other’s salty tears that were getting in the way.

when you finally came to your senses, you pulled away.

“if somehow we are both 40 and single, let’s meet at the place where we first met. until then, happy engagement.”

[blooeyedtroll]

Home on the Range

Rated PG-13ish Lolz. For occasional cussing and maybe innuendos(?). Lolz. This can also be read on Ao3. Feel free to read it there if you prefer.

More art scattered though out this fic, hope you like it!

Hello friend! Welcome!  

This is a One shot fic that takes place in mine & @messybitch802 ​‘s : 

Efflorescence AU. 

This is the beginning of our tale, I hope you enjoy.

This is in Hickory’s POV. I thought this would be a fun way to introduce Bloo and Messy. It also seemed fitting since Hickory will play a larger part as our tale unfolds.

However, I’d like to think this could be enjoyed as a fun one-shot Hickory & Dickory fic as well. This fandom needs more Yodel Brothers content!

Big thanks to @jade-green-butterfly ​ and her random ask that kicked my butt in gear, giving me the inspiration to finally start writing:

Anyway, let’s get to it. Enjoy!:

HOME ON THE RANGE

"Rock Trolls... no doubt about that.”

The rugged, orange haired Troll put down his hammer and stepped away from the task at hand. Fence work could wait. This needed his immediate attention.  Around this time of day he'd expect to see, at most, a tumbleweed passing by the entrance to the Ranch. Maybe. Nobody ever came out this way. Not since he'd been here anyway. At a good clip, it was about an hour trek away from Lonesome Flats. Which suited his needs perfectly.

The perfect place to lay low and still blend in.

"Bist du sicher?" whispered a muffled voice behind him.

"Of course I am. Now hush, I'm gonna check it out. Stay in character. An’ be ready, just in case."

The orange haired Troll patted the front of his jeans, freeing them of a satisfying amount of dust from the day’s hard work and checked his reflection in a nearby trough. Grinning as he placed a straw of wheat that was kept in the brim of his hat; between his teeth.

Perfection.

Who would guess otherwise, that the reflection in that water, was anything but a genuine Country Troll?

It took a lot of work shopping, trial and error, but he did it.

Well, they did it. The four legged, rugged, handsome, Country Troll was in actuality...two Trolls.

Two brothers to be precise.

Yodel Trolls by the names of Hickory and Dickory. 

The last Yodel Trolls by their accounts, and they happened to be the best damn team of Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all of Trolldom.

For good reason.

The best tool to their disposal was their ability to blend in. So much so, it was only until it was “too late” for their marks, by the time their true colors were revealed. And this disguise has been their best yet.

Hickory, though the youngest brother, was the much taller of the two. So he was the face to this particular get-up. Making Dickory to be left with the tail end. Literally. Understandably, this was not ideal for him. 

And he definitely made it well known on many occasions how he felt about having to play a literal “horse’s ass”.

But by gum, was he the best ass you could ask for.

At this point, Dickory had mastered the art of synchronizing with Hickory's movements, in such a way, it was now practically impossible to spot anything amiss. It was as if they shared one mind while under the guise of this centaur-esk being.

And while Dickory was fairly sour about the whole situation, Hickory found himself more and more, fond of living day to day as a Country Troll. Very much so to his brother’s shagrin. The look, the music, the lifestyle...everything.

It had been two months now since the brothers found themselves here, in Country Music territory. However, last anyone on the outside had heard about them, was that they had "yodelled so hard, an avalanche fell on them"...or something? Which was just what they wanted. For the time being anyway.

The brothers had struck a deal with their last mark. 

For his freedom, he was to spread said rumor, so the Yodelers could lay low for a while.

Queen Barb, of the Hard Rock Trolls, was no stranger to the two brothers. As a matter of fact, she was one of their most frequent clients for the past few years. Which suited them just fine. Well, almost. The last few jobs they did for the young Queen, left a bitter taste in Hickory's mouth. Not so much for the tasks she asked of them, but because of something she said and what he saw on their last few visits to Volcano Rock City. Maps. Marked up. Plans of some sort. Hanging everywhere. The young ruler, looking the most tired he'd ever seen her, yet looking as if ready to burst from being too tightly wound, at any moment.

"Hopefully next time I see you dudes, one way or another, we'll all be singing to a different tune. It's gonna be so Rad."

Whatever was going on, both Yodelers agreed that it was definitely not worth getting caught up in. They could just feel it. Deep down. They were hired to track Trolls down and do what needed to do, to get by.

Both of them could be shady characters at times, but they had decent moral compasses to live by. So they told themselves.

That's why the presence of Rock Trolls at this moment made Hickory's blood run cold. Could it be possible somehow, some way, they had been found out? That whatever Queen Barb was up to, she was looking for them? What is it that she’d need them for anyway?

No. Their plan worked perfectly. Blend in as a Country Troll, lay low for a while, only do the occasional "job" when the opportunity presented itself, just until the Queen of Rock cooled her head or went through with... whatever she is planning.

Not a soul knew about Hickory and Dickory being here.

Well.

Unless you counted, July.

Miss July, the owner of the Ranch. A rather interesting Troll.

A Pop-Country Troll. The only mixed genre Troll around these parts. Unlike her four legged, centaur, Country loving neighbors; she walked on two legs... well, hooves. Her appearance could be compared to a more "Satyr" like build, with a perfect blend of both genres in her appearance. The bright colors of a Pop Troll, but the sturdy build of that of a Country Troll.

A Tough, stern older lady-Troll, with a heart of gold.

Running this place all on her own, while tending to her extremely elderly parents.

That's one of the reasons he never expected any visitors here. Nobody in town wanted anything to do with Miss July or her family. Didn't much like associating with “their kind” if they could help it. Though you'd never hear them say it in polite conversation. But that suited Miss July just fine. That's how she liked it. Ever since Miss July and her folks suffered a terrible loss to their family, decades ago, she rarely went into town if she could help it.

Which on one such occasion, is when she stumbled upon the Yodelers, in their first attempts at putting together their  “Country Persona”.

They had been camping not too far from her Ranch and the Town, when she found them both, struggling to even walk in time together, in a pair of poorly made four legged pants.

July took their word as Gospel. That they were just fulfilling a lifelong dream of wanting to, in some way, be a Country Troll. So she offered them a place to stay and to show them the ropes on what it meant to be a Country Troll. If they agreed to work for her at her family’s Ranch.

"Until you feel you can stand on yer own four hooves!' She teased.

It could be easily wagered that July being an outcast in her own community, could be a factor of sympathy she felt towards them, making her wanting to help any way she could, and possibly what made her not judgmental in the least. That, and as tough as she put herself on as, she was sweet as apple pie, through and through.

Which did make Hickory especially, feel guilty about not being more upfront with her. As much as he could be anyhow.

Especially so, when the occasional “job opportunity" presented itself around Lonesome Flats during the Yodelers free time. Turns out, there were plenty of Trolls who had a bone to pick with others, or needed matters settled around these parts. Not to mention, crooks-a-plenty to turn in.

But both brothers always repented.  By being very diligent working for Miss July on the Ranch. Anything she needed done, got done. It was the least they could do for what she had done for them for these last two months. So the last thing needed was for anything to get ugly around here.

As Hickory approached closer and closer, he could feel his brother tensing up.

"Easy.” He whispered under his breath, smirking, patting behind him in attempts to calm his hotheaded companion. While still maintaining a nonchalant and calm demeanor.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Volcano Rock City for past jobs, and even on several occasions for other clients; needing to spend time incognito as Rock Trolls, it was fairly easy to recognize them from afar.

Upon closer inspection, it did come across as rather curious to see them wearing Country attire. They couldn't be trying to blend in, could they?

No. Not by the way these two held themselves.  

One Troll in various shades of blue in appearance, the other in peculiar shades of green from toe to tip. Both faces, still covered by wide brimmed hats. The blue Troll's demeanor was nervous right from the jump. Their green companion, holding them by the hand, grounding them. As if to keep them from sprinting away at a moment's notice. Both looking tired from the trek they must have taken from town to get to the Ranch property and from the sun's unforgiving afternoon rays.

Nothing but what seemed to be electric guitars and simple backpacks on their backs. However, these were definitely the most impressive guitars Hickory had seen in all his life.

The blue Troll’s, from what he could make out, was sage in color and looked as if it was made of some large critter's battered wing. Almost bat or reptilian in nature. The green Troll’s guitar, an imposing, venomous violet, crafted by what could only could be guessed as being once the claw and stinger of some scorpion-type critter. One he certainly wouldn't want to tango with. 

Lackeys of Queen Barb’s? No... couldn't be.

"Nobody knows we're here"

"We've been so careful."

He repeated over and over to himself. Almost mantra-like. He really had no reason to be this paranoid he kept reminding himself.

“Who are the most feared Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all Trolldom?”

“The Yodel brothers. That's who.” He smirked at that last thought. Puffing his broad chest a bit more, in response to his inner pep-talk.

And no Troll, no matter now--

"H--Howdy!" The blue Troll, clearing their voice, shakily called out.

"Right fine day, isn't it?"

The traveler seemed to ease into the drawl like putting on an old pair of comfy shoes, and with each word, their confidence seemed to boost. Stepping forward from their green companion, they removed their wide brim hat and gandered up at Hickory, with a small smile that damn near made his heart leap through his throat. In a good way?

That was...unexpected.

His usual quick witted mind and tongue, on the spot turned into a train that just left the station.

Those eyes. Absolutely pierced him right through. Large, inquisitive, pale, cerulean eyes. Staring right at him under dark lashes, and surrounded by a cascade of cobalt freckles.

The closest shade of color he could compare those eyes to were a color he hadn't thought of in ages. Snow. Snow that as a Trolling he played in. Usually when you found yourself making forts or laying in heeps that came up so high, you would look, and you'd catch the glimmering sunlight, shining through it. A shade of blue that just melted you to the core and drew out a smile, without you being the wiser.

"Right fine.”  he responded. Recovering from his wandering mind.

No time to be side tracked by an adorable, freckled, blue-eyed Troll. With sweet, curvy features, who has solid looking muscles that look they could easily crush--

"How can I help you? You folks seem a bit far away from home. Don't get a lot of Rock Trolls around these parts.”

Thank goodness his voice seemed to be the one on track; at the task at hand.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

The green Troll stepped forward, hotly, removing their own hat, as to glare directly at him. Sizing him up. Only a tad taller, but much more lithe in figure to their companion. Definitely much more fierce. Not just in attitude, but in appearance. Their eyes, deep as sapphires. Teeth, the bottom row protruding two large tusk-like lower canines. Ears, pointed back and just as sharp as their claws, which he found himself one the other end of, being pointed at. Just as he felt his hair prickle, preparing himself for what was bound to happen next, the tension was immediately neutralized.

"It's okay Mess” The blue Troll cooed, calming the green one.

"Sorry to just come on over uninvited, but uh, does a Troll named July still live here?"

"You mean Miss July? Sure does. Why, if You don't mind my askin’?"

"Well you see, she's my... can--can I please talk to her? If she's around here today?”

A good long pause washed over the three.

Hickory could feel the trepidation radiating from Dickory behind him as he swished "their tail' in annoyance. Normally, if this was any other situation, it'd be too bad for these two. He'd send them right on their way, or worse if it came to it. They seemed capable. They had guitars, they were Rock Trolls. Random Rock Trolls, showing up, asking for not himself or his brother, but Miss July. Out of all the Country Trolls in Lonesome Flats.

But the waves of anxiety radiating from this freckled Troll were massive; and when their friend wasn't staring daggers at his direction, they were gazing so tenderly and sympathetically at them. These weren't agents of Queen Barbs. These seemed like folks on a sad mission of delivering news, or something of the like. They looked as though this was the last place they would ever want to be.

Dickory always insisted that Hickory was too quick to let his heart think first before his head when it came to their line of work. He didn't see it that way though. Hickory thought himself a good judge of character. Hell, that's why they found themselves in this situation now. Tipping his hat in a friendly manner, he smiled at the two.

"Well, why dontcha follow me then. I'm sure Miss July is making lunch right about now. You folks are just in time. Name's Hickory"

"Messy." replied the green.

The blue Troll remained silent.

"Adorabull got yer tongue cutie?" he teased

Those freckled cheeks lit up in seconds, a flushed lavender. Too cute.

"Somethin' like that' They smiled sheepishly.

All the while, as Hickory walked with the two up to the main building on the property, they stuck to idle chit-chat. About the weather or the nearby town. They passed by many of the fences that housed just some of Miss July's critters. As well as a few stables, paddocks, a decent sized workshed, and the small house the Yodelers had been staying in since they arrived here. It was once they passed that particular building, the blue Rocker stopped in their tracks momentarily. Just staring. Almost trance-like. They only moved again once Messy had firmly grabbed their hand and they followed.

Finally, they reached the main building's porch. The family home. Without any prompting, the two travelers waited at the bottom steps of the porch. Hickory nodded, thinking that might be best. He walked up to the open door. The wafting aroma of today's lunch filling his nostrils. Chili with sweet rolls? If he wasn't mistaken, he could smell fresh squeezed lemonade too. Knowing better to barge in while she was in the Kitchen...

"Pardon me, Miss July?" he called out.

"Dammit Hic, I told ya once, I'll tell ya again. Lunch is on when I ring the damn bell, that's when it’s good and ready!"

Hickory couldn't help but chuckle. That July was a firecracker.

"It's got nothin' to do with that Miss. You see, You've got yourself some visitors."

"For the last time Hic, just call me Jul--"

July emerged from the doorway, holding in each hand a glass of lemonade with mint garnish. No doubt as something to appease the Yodelers until lunch was done. As soon as her eyes met the two travelers, she stopped dead in her tracks. Glaring at them something fierce.

"These two are the visitors I was talkin' about."

"Rock Trolls, huh? Here? Whaddya want?"

The blue traveler, clearing their throat, voice cracking; they smiled, eyes glazed and sparkling with unshed tears. Staring at July as if a secret wish had been granted.

"Aunty Ju-Ju? It's m-me. It's Bloo. I'm home."

Bloo? That Bloo? Could it really be? Hickory didn't need to dwell on that too long though. July suddenly yelped out loud, in such a way that it startled absolutely everyone. Including herself apparently because those glasses in her hands dropped and shattered to bits.

"You couldn't be-- w-what kind of game are ya playin’ at?!"

July at a loss for words. This was serious. There she stood, knees buckling, lip quivering, tail thrashing. Unable to look away from the Troll in front of them at the end of her porch. A look of torment across their face.

Slowly, the freckled Troll smiled sadly, and reached behind their back for their instrument. Hickory acted quickly, putting himself between the two. Staring intently at the Rocker. They stared back, as they slowly brought the instrument forward.

"Please. Let me play?"

Hickory's nostrils flared, biting down hard on the straw in his mouth. How was he so stupid? Well, he wouldn't be fooled this time.

*~strum~*

Though the guitar was imposing and electric, with a stroke of their hand, it played a long, twangy, unmistakable, Country cord.

Silence.

Laying a hand on Hickory's shower, July gently moved him aside, her attention almost trance-like on the player. Waiting.

As if they understood, they shifted and picked up their guitar in earnest. Strumming again, but to a much more upbeat melody. Much more upbeat than most Country music Hickory had heard around town that he grew to enjoy. This sounded more... Pop? Much more like something he'd hear July singing on a day she was in a particularly good mood. Or something July’s elderly mother, the Pop Troll of the family might hum.

That's when they began to sing along, starting off slowly and gaining strength with each note. A large smile on their face as tears cascaded down their round cheeks. As if putting on the show of their lives. It was raw, and beautiful.

"She loves rock ‘n’ roll,

they said it's demons’ tongue,

She thinks they're too old.

They think she's too young,

And the battle lines are clearly drawn.”

“She's a wild one,

with an angel's face,

She's a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy's knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She's a wild one.

Runnin' free."

“She has future plans,

and dreams at night,

they tell her life is hard,

she smiles, sayin’ “that’s alright”, yeah!”

“She’s a wild one,

With an angel’s face,

She’s a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy’s knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She’s a wild one.

Runnin’ free.”

"She's a wild one”~~

"~~Runnin' free.”  July finished and sobbed the last line.

"That was the song I wrote for your Mama... all them years ago..My Bloo. My little ‘Bloo-Jay’ came home!"

Hickory stood fully aside now, allowing the two to embrace, for what he now had realized had been the first time in more than two decades. An embrace that both warmed and broke your heart, all at the same time. This was July's pride and joy. Her niece. Bloo, the only child of July's older sister June.

June and July were extremely close sisters. Best friends even.

June was a very free spirited Troll who fancied herself a part-time singer at one of the local bars in town. On one of these trips to town, she met a traveling Rock Troll by the name of Ziggy. Busking for food and drink. Let's just say, it didn't take long at all until wedding bells were ringing and Ziggy was part of the happy family here on the Ranch. The couple waited a while before having a Trolling. The two were busy enjoying married life, Ziggy took June traveling, fulfilling her dreams of seeing life outside Lonesome Flats. And wherever they went, they were singing up a storm. When they returned home to settle down, at any bar or club, or bingo hall that would have them, they continued singing their hearts out. Occasionally even dragging July along. The three of them became inseparable. Especially after Bloo was born. The townsfolk even seemed to warm up to the entire, oddball family. It was all turning up roses for the family finally, after what felt like ages of trying to live in harmony. But it all came to a crushing end. 

Shortly after Bloo turned five years old, a serious, contagious illness spread throughout Lonesome Flats. Most folks who caught it, eventually recovered, but there were eight fatalities in the end. June was one of them. The family was torn to pieces by June’s passing. Ziggy just wasn't the same Troll after. A year passed and just as they thought things might slowly start looking up, Ziggy and Bloo were gone.

Apparently he had packed himself and Bloo up one night, and just left without a word. July knew he had family back home in Volcano Rock City, and figured that is where he would take Bloo to raise them. But July dared not go there. For good reason. A Pop-Country Troll, travel to Volcano Rock City?  Demand her niece back from a heartbroken father? While leaving her extremely elderly parents to fend for themselves? No. July would be turned away or torn to pieces. King Thrash at the time was feared for good reason in those days and most Trolls feared Rock Trolls the most out of all the other Tribes.

July and her folks basically moved on by learning to mourn the loss of June, Bloo, and Ziggy. They never expected to ever see Bloo or Ziggy again. Yet here Bloo was. Embracing their aunt, while Hickory and Messy looked on fondly. His smile grew wider as he realized how overjoyed July's folks: Clay and May, would be to see their grand-baby again. Something they thought they'd never live to see.

He could see it now that he got a better look at Bloo, as they were bombarded with kisses and hugs, that they did share a little resemblance to their Pop-Country Aunt. Though without a doubt, they took after their father Ziggy the most. No wonder Bloo wasn't easily recognizable at first glance, they looked so different in comparison to how they looked back then as a Trolling.

Who would have thought that he'd meet the Troll who's childhood pictures adorned the home he and his brother were staying in? Which happened to be Bloo's Old family home on the Ranch. The same house they had stopped to stare at on their way to the main house.

"Small world we live in!” He barked with laughter.

"Welcome home Miss Bloo, glad to meetcha." And he meant it, whole heartedly.

"Glad to be home again.”

END.

(Song used was Faith Hill’s ‘Wild One’. Tweaked for this story)

[reluctant-mandalore]

🎃Mandoctober🎃Day 23: Rifle

After being captured, the Mandalorian is shocked to see you come to his rescue while skillfully wielding his pulse rifle. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. Weapons usage (pulse rifle). Also reader kicking some scummy bounty hunter ass. Not beta read. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader (also badass reader)

Word Count: 1,644

a/n: Hey everyone! Just a short and sort of cheeky fic about the reader using Mando’s pulse rifle to save him. I’m not good at writing fight scenes so its mostly just ambiguous without much detail to it. Anywho, I thought it was a nice little change up from some of the typical stuff I write! Endings kinda weird ngl, but I honestly had no clue how to end it. So... 👀

The Mandalorian had never been more angry in his life. The job was supposed to be a simple one that involved the capture and a return of a petty thief, but of course nothing seemed to be that easy for him. Out of all the things that could have gone wrong with this job, he never thought it would turn out to be a plot meant to capture the Mandalorian and the child. 

This was what exactly had happened though, and what was supposed to be a simple job, had turned into something much more complicated. He had ended up finding himself ridiculously outnumbered and overpowered more quickly than he had liked, resulting in his capture by the other bounty hunters. How he fell to some scummy low-life hunters he’d never know, but it had happened, and now he had to find a way out of the situation. 

The other bounty hunters had chuckled and chattered in delight over being able to trick the Mandalorian. The confidence they had felt from doing so wafted off of them in waves, annoying the beskar hunter beyond belief. Once he got himself out of this, he’d make sure to wipe those smirks right of their cheeks. 

One of the hunters had sauntered over to the cuffed Mandalorian, confidence in each step he took. He only stopped when he was standing mere inches in front of the imprisoned man. At first the hunter had only stared at him, his head tilting at the sight of the blood which dripped from the wound in Mando’s side. 

“That’s gotta hurt, huh?”

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, refusing to waste words on someone like the hunter before him. This man held no honour in his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t worth a single syllable from his own lips. 

“Not goin’ to talk, are ya?” He laughed, “Should hav’ expected as much from someone of yer kind.”

The smirk on his lips was crooked, his eyes holding a sinister glare, as his voice dripped with more venomous taunts, “Won’t be long till the rest of the boys get back with the asset and that precious little ‘friend’ of yers anyway.”

Flames of anger began to ignite within the Mandalorian at the mention of you and the child. The thought of the two of you being in danger now due to his oversight made his blood boil and his heart ache in panic. He knew he had to find a way to get out of this in order to save you both. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that you were in trouble, and it honestly terrified him to his core. 

The concern he felt  made him begin to pull at the restraining device holding him, ignoring the pain which shot through him from his wound that continued to bleed steadily. Seeing this had made the hunters in close proximity laugh at his attempt, the one standing before him loudest among the bunch. Their reactions had only solidified his need to free himself though, and his mind desperately searched for a solution for his current predicament. 

“Ya know…” The hunter trailed off, eyeing the beskar covered man and the helmet which rested on his head, “I heard once that Mandalorians don’t ever remove their helmets.”

One of the other hunters had scoffed, “That’s ridiculous!” 

“No it’s true!” Another had piped in, “I heard they don’t ever show their face to no one.” 

Murmurs had spread out among the group of hunters nearby now, small bits of bickering could be heard as they discussed the rumors around his helmet. The Mandalorian had frozen in place at hearing their words, as now he was also becoming increasingly worried for the creed he had swore. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has attempted to remove his helmet after all, and he wouldn’t put it past these ones to try as well. 

“Well Mando is it true?” The hunter before him asked, “Hav’ ya never really taken off that bucket of yers?”

Silence. The only sound coming from the Mandalorian, who sat in his own blood, was the soft intake of breaths he took. Behind him, his hands fiddled with the restraining device quietly, hoping he’d be able to get it undone before the hunter tried whatever he was thinking of doing. 

“Don’t matter if ya won’t answer.” The hunter taunting him approached closer now, his grimy hand grabbing roughly at the chin of the helmet shielding the Mandalorian’s face from view. “Cause I want a peek, whether you like it or-” 

The man never got to finish his words, as in an instant he had turned to puffs of ashes and sparks before the Mandalorian. Everyone in the dimly lit room had jumped from surprise at the sudden attack, not prepared for it to occur, and panic soon flowed from hunter to hunter, as they tried to find the source of the blast.  

After the first shot, it didn’t take much longer for more to follow. Every shot from the pulse rifle in question hitting its desired targets without fail, the bright blasts shooting across the open area and disintegrating each hunter they managed to hit in an instant. The other bounty hunters fell quickly, not able to keep up with the assault that was suddenly brought upon them, and the Mandalorian watched in bewilderment at the chaos taking place before him. 

Honestly, he just really hoped that this unknown person with a pulse rifle was here to rescue him, though he knew not to get his hopes up either way. 

Once again silence had filled the space, the other bounty hunters now either piles of ash or limps bodies on the floor surrounding him. Shuffling could be heard in the distance, and he watched impatiently for his rescuer to come into view, though nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see. 

The Mandalorian had felt his jaw drop while watching you walk out from the shadows, his pulse rifle held firmly in your grasp. The light filtering in through the cracks of the ceiling made itself into a shimmering veil around your form, illuminating you in the darkened space, and making you seem like a divine being sent from the maker themselves. 

“Hey Mando!” Your voice was cheerful and light, almost as if you didn’t just blast a bunch of men twice your size to pieces, “Sorry I’m a little late.” 

His mouth had moved in an attempt to form words, but the shock running through him kept them firmly in his throat. He didn’t know what to say or how to react when seeing you here. He never expected to have you come to his rescue, and honestly he wasn’t even aware that you knew how to shoot.  

A happy hum had left you as you went to work untying your Mandalorian companion, removing the restraining device that had made itself home onto his wrists. Afterwards, you had helped him stand, allowing him to put his weight onto you, while he winced from the wound on his side. 

“Careful now, don’t want to make that any worse than it already is.” You said, worry crossing your features at the sight of his injury. 

Din looked around, still shocked by the devastation brought on by you and a single rifle, “Did...Did you do all this on your own?”

“Of course?” You said, your face morphing to that of confusion, “Now come, let’s get out of here. Your son is waiting for you back at the ship and that wound needs to be looked at.” 

Helping him walk out of the building and out into the daylight, you guided him all the way back to the Razor Crest. When finally back at the ship, you had even helped him up the ramp, settling him on one of the crates in the hull before moving away to find some medical supplies. 

The hatch to the child’s cot was closed—hinting that the little one was taking his evening nap—which made the Mandalorian relieved to see. He didn’t want the child to see him in this state. The child didn’t need more things like this to weigh him down at such a young age. 

“Oh yeah!” You said suddenly, grabbing his attention, as you maneuvered his pulse rifle off your shoulder before holding it out for him to take, “I borrowed your pulse rifle, it's really nice! Probably one of the best I’ve ever used.”  

After your comment and return of his rifle, you went back to searching through his med supplies and medpacs to find the bacta patches. While you did so, the Mandalorian gently ran his fingers over the rifle in his hands, the shock of seeing your skill with it still bouncing around in his mind. The need to ask you about your handling of the pulse rifle crawled at his throat, but he resisted speaking at first, as he wasn’t sure how to word his questions without coming off as rude. 

He was honestly surprised to see the whole thing go down. He never knew that you were so handy with a gun when he had first hired you to work for him, and honestly assumed you couldn’t. At times you seemed too sweet to ever pick up a blaster of any sort, much less a full on pulse rifle. Clearly, he still had much to learn about his new partner.

“You know…” He trailed off when he finally spoke, a hint of wonder in his tone, as he looked up at you from the gun. “You never told me you could shoot.”

A smirk spread across your lips at his words, and you looked over at him with a medpac in hand, a shrug of your shoulders quickly following suit.

“You never asked.”

---

Tags:

@starrywatermelon​ @ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 14-Gala (Part 1)

ummm hi? i just wanted to give yall a huge heads up that this IS part one of two, and part two will be added when i have time to go back and finish. both my computer and my phone are acting up, and my tablet has a faulty keyboard. that said, im going to work to get things back on track. 

Two days after Christmas, the manor was buzzing with activity. The Kents had arrived the day before, and now everyone was prepping for the annual Winter Gala. Marinette was standing in her room, hands on her hips, glaring at her father as he tried to convince her that no, Marinette, the gala is not that big of a deal. down the hall, Tim and Damien helped Alfred sort through the myriad of suits and other formal wear that the siblings would be wearing the next night. Jason had left on ‘business’, while Dick was watching over the people brought into finish decorating for the occasion. Once the boys’ clothing had been sorted, Alfred moved on to check on Cass who had been studiously avoiding all activity related to the Gala.

In the Crewe Group Chat

Kim: Mari, when do you get back in town??

Chlo: M, there’s damage control to do, do you want me to wait for you?

Max: Marinette, you may want to check your Instagram. I know that you avoid social media in Gotham but…

Chlo: MARINETTE CHENG-WAYNE

Chlo: Pick up your phone

Chlo: MARI

Alix: Chloe, chill.

Alix: there’s only so much we can do if she’s busy today.

Kim: we need to take care of this somehow though.

Alix: do we have ANY OTHER WAY to contact m?

Adrien: why do I feel like I’m missing something very important?

Max: have you checked the news lately?

Adrien: I only really check AkumaWatch, why?

Max: check international news

Adrien: is… is this what I think it is? (Attached is a screenshot of international gossip. At the top of the page is a picture of two teens in hoodies moving away from an airport. They are dragging suitcases and have their heads down to avoid attention. The boy’s hood is thrown back, and his well-known blue eyes are glaring at the photographer. Above it is the title has Timothy Drake-Wayne finally found love? The second screenshot is from farther down the article where there is a picture of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, Damien Wayne and Marinette hurrying along a sidewalk completely bundled up. The caption reads could this be Tim Drake-Wayne’s mystery girl? Who is she?)

Chlo: YES

Chlo: and its gala day so she’s going to be busy af anyways.

Adrien: What do you mean its Gala day? There’s only one Gala today?

Chlo: Duh. Mari is going.

Chlo: Keep up, Adrikins.

Alix: oh god

Alix: does anyone know how her dress turned out? She had been freaking out about it last I heard, and we all know how much M puts by first impressions.

Adrien: Ok, I’m still really confused? There’s only one Gala today? The Wayne Winter Charity Gala, which is really exclusive and a huge to-do? What Gala is Marinette going to???

Nino: dude

Nino: please

Nino: don’t be oblivious.

Mari: what did I miss?

Chlo: DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?????

Mari: um…yes? Jason has been having a ball with all the press. Why?

Chlo: I thought you were trying to be low key?

Mari: tonight

Chlo: IM SORRY??? WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW????

Alix: well, it’s a good thing you have so many influential friends who keep ending up at the same Galas as you, Mari

Adrien: ok, I’m still confused

Chlo: your going to the Winter Gala, right?

Adrien: yeah? We go every year. The only entertaining part is the fact that the Wayne kids always fight. Otherwise it’s all snobby rich people.

Chlo: I’m taking offence to that, since Alix and I have also been going for years.

Alix: seconded

Mari: to be fair, you both tend to hide away and prank people

Adrien: wait. That was you two?

Adrien: And Marinette, how do you know that?

Mari: omg

Mari: I give up sdjkgb

Class Group Chat

Lila: guys! My friend reached out to me…

Alya: wait! Which friend? Is it…?

Lila: yes! Its Maralynn! She’s sooooo excited about her family Gala tonight!

Alix: Maralynn?

Lila: ok, you didn’t hear it from me, but that mystery girl? Seen at the airport with THE Tim Wayne? That’s her! They’re actually twins!

Chloe: oh! That means that Alix, Adrien and I will see her tonight! Its so cool that she trusts you not to reveal who she is…. (:

Marinette: lol isn’t Twitter convinced that she’s dating Tim? AWKWARD

Lila: Maralynn told me that it wasn’t worth it to go after the rumors. I’m trying to respect her decision.

Rose: that’s so sweet, Lila! I didn’t know that you knew the Waynes!

Lila: I don’t know ALL of them, just Maralynn! We were at boarding school together in Italy for a few years.

Marinette: OH WOW

Nino: Chloe, Alix, your going to have to tell us what you think of her?

Lila: oh yes! And if you see my boyfriend, send my love!

Chloe:…BOYFRIEND???

Lila: oh? You didn’t know? Tim and I have had a thing for a while

Marinette: oh really? Chloe, you’ll have to pass on that she’s thinking of him tonight!

Lila: I mean… not if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to be a bother on GALA night!

Chloe: if I see him, it won’t be a bother at all Lila!

Marinette shook her head and set her phone down as the class chat continued to blow up. As much as she loved Chloe, she knew that the girl was instigating Lila for fun. When everything blew up, Marinette wanted to be able to stand back and watch the fire burn, but not be close enough to get burned. When she turned in her room, the garment bag in the corner caught her eye. Inside, Marinette knew, was a long black dress. When she had run the design past Alfred, the English man had given her an approving nod. Later, she had heard him mentioning to her father that at least one of his myriad of children would be able to dress themselves. The comment had made the teen giggle and she had made sure to put every effort she could into the gown. More than anything, she wanted to make her family proud. A knock on the door drew her attention and she turned to find Cass standing there, her own gown held in its own garment bag.

“get ready? Together?” the noirette lit up at her older sister’s suggestion and she nodded excitedly. The other girl moved into the room and hung the bag in her arms over the wardrobe next to Marinette’s. after she had deposited her shoes, the older teen turned to her sister and smiled.

By the time that Tim came to check on them, both girls had finished their Makeup and were working on hair. The makeup artist that Bruce had hired was packing up her stuff and the hair stylist was partway through Cass’s hair. Marinette turned towards her brother with a smile from where she was standing in front of the hidden dresses. “lend me a hand?” He smirked at the frustration on her face.

“Gladly, Little Bit. Which one is yours?” when the girl nodded to the larger of the two bags, Tim frowned. “how big exactly is your dress?”

“Big enough for me to need help getting it on. Its not that it’s exactly heavy either! Its just…poofy?” he laughed at Marinette’s rush to explain and helped her pull the bag off of the dress. When the dress was no longer hidden, his breath caught. The black dress was stunning. He could see where it moved from black to grey to blue at the bottom, and the long full sleeves followed the same style. Hanging on the hanger behind the dress was a black hoop, and a pair of low heels (as tall as Bruce would allow, actually. He had to remind her ten times that although this was a high society event, she was still 14, and didn’t need to be dressing like she was 20.) sat under the layers of the dress. Where he had been expecting glitter and sparkles, Tim was surprised to find that the satin was free of almost anything that glittered.

“wow” Marinette laughed at his reaction and reached for the hoop.

“I know, right? It took forever, but its totally worth it! And, it’s the designers first attempt at this kind of formal. I think she did a great job.” Tim paused at that.

“LB, hey,” his sister tensed at the abbreviation for her nickname before she turned to him. “who exactly designed your dress?”

“Oh, just a small up and coming designer. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Cass sniggered from her spot by the vanity and Marinette shot their sister a smile. “ok! Let me get the slip on, and then after the hoop is on top, ill need your help with making sure the skirt fits right.”

Marinette would not be over exaggerating if she said that the red carpet was incredibly chaotic. The only thing she could think of that was more chaotic was perhaps the last time Jagged had held a concert in Paris. After she had made it through the gaggle of reporters and the public (was that Mr. Kent, SUPERMAN, she saw standing in the crowd calling out questions? Dam that man was everywhere.) the teen dropped her purse, that held an extra set of shoes, in her seat. The rest of the family wouldn’t be in for a bit. Her father, Dick, and Damien would all be in the receiving line Alfred would be behind the scenes all night, and Tim was already striking up discussions with business partners. Cass was on the other side of the room, looking stunning in her deep blue dress. When her sister had approached her, through her website, about the dress the teen had squealed at the idea of designing the close-fitting dress for her only sister. A Blonde caught her eye and pulled the noirette out of her thoughts. The familiar girl who was making her way over had abandoned her trademarked blues and yellows in favor of a deep red that matched the garnets littering her jewelry. A few steps behind her was another teen close to Marinette’s age with a pink pixie cut slicked down. The other teen was wearing a suit that had perfect tailoring…actually, that was Marinette’s suit. The girl laughed as Chloe and Alix joined her, the shortest of the three standing in the middle to draw attention to her suit.

As the girls caught up, they scanned the ballroom. On the other side, Tim was starting to look frazzled, while Marinette thought she saw Jason slip in past one of the servers. opposite them, Damien and Dick were starting to mingle while Bruce moved to greet the Kents. As she swept her gaze over the room, Marinette blinked. There, looking straight at her was-

“oh no, its Adrien. Chloe I love you and all, but if that boy causes a scene tonight…” Chloe waved away Alix’s worries.

“I already told him to be on his best behavior. I am personally more interested in when Felix will get here. For all his big talk about transferring to a private school in Paris, I won’t believe it until the brat comes to see me.” The group stifled their laughter at Chloe’s put out response.

“as long as he doesn’t come over asking about everything going on, we should be good.” Marinette nodded at Alix’s statement on Adrien.  

Look for Part 2 soon! if yall have any thoughts, i’d LOVE to hear them, since i have the basic plot down and im fleshing it out now...

[zenith-impact]

Embers - Part Seven

Read on AO3 here!

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6]

The path to Wolvendom did take you both past the Dawn Winery and, as expected, the Knights of Favonius were patrolling the area. But Diluc knew his way around, hanging close to the cliffs as you stayed as far away from the Winery as possible. He led you to a river where you managed to get something to drink. You picked up berries on the way, checking with him to make sure they were edible. He killed a boar, and the two of you found an empty campsite and a small campfire that he cooked on. For some reason, you weren’t surprised at how multi-talented he was, and he mentioned something about learning to live off the land from his father. You weren’t sure what you would have done without him, but that was the whole reason you were on the run anyway.

But you didn’t mind. You found that you were happy despite the pressure, and you did what you could to help. Sometimes that meant talking about anything you could think of while you walked. Your favorite food and candy. Favorite color and fun things you liked to do. After a while, he began to respond in kind, and the two of you enjoyed a rather lively conversation once you got far enough from the Dawn Winery that you weren’t risking a Knight overhearing you. Sometimes you were both quiet, especially when jogging up hillsides or climbing up a cliff. He carried you occasionally, especially up the steeper cliff sides where he could jump without effort that you would have to crawl up under the same circumstances. Sometimes he carried you a lot further than you thought he should have, but you weren’t complaining. He seemed to enjoy it for some reason, so who were you to judge?

“We’re here,” He said, setting you down. You peered into a nearby bush, picking out some purple fruits. “Wolfhooks,” Diluc said. “Medicinal.”

You nodded as you carefully picked a couple and put them in your bag. “Just in case.”

“Be careful.”

You found that endearing. “I will.”

You kept walking for at least another hour, picking berries and Wolfhooks until your bag was full. Eventually, you found a left behind tent to rest in, and Diluc assured you that nobody would be coming back. “People don’t exactly stay in Wolvendom,” He said. “And if they do come back… we’ll deal with them.”

“I’d rather not kill any hikers today.”

He scowled at you. “I’d be diplomatic about it.”

You giggled and his expression relaxed. “Master Diluc. Sweet talking everywhere he goes.”

He rolled his eyes as you handed him a few berries. “We’ll need to find water again soon,” He said before biting down. You nodded as you took your own food and glanced up at the sky.

“At least it’s a nice day,” You said.

“We’ve got a ways to go,” Diluc said.

“But do you know where we’re going?”

“The Wolf of the North,” Diluc said. “Hopefully he’ll speak to us.”

“Do you know what he’s like?”

“I’ve only heard rumors,” Diluc said. “I’m skeptical if he exists at all, but Kaeya seemed certain, so it’s worth a shot.”

“So, you do trust him?”

“We don’t have any other leads.”

“True,” You said as you leaned back on your hands. He rested against the rock, crossing his arms. And there you two sat in comfortable silence for a good period of time. At one point, his eyes closed, and you couldn’t help but peer over at him. He slept so quietly you weren’t even sure if he was asleep. His breathing was even. His head tilted as far back as it could go. His arms remained crossed, but he looked relaxed. You moved slightly, hoping he didn’t wake up. You breathed a small sigh of relief when he didn’t.

How could one person be so attractive? It almost wasn’t fair. He was slowly ruining other men for you. And he had his own particular charm, and he seemed more relaxed with you around. Maybe. It’s not like you knew what he was like alone.

The ruffling of leaves made you freeze. There was no breeze, but you knew there were plenty of wolves around. You’d been hoping to avoid them, but maybe that was assuming too much. What would you do if you saw one? Wake up Diluc? What would happen if you two fought the wolves in Wolvendom? The Wolf of the North probably wouldn’t talk to you if you hurt its kin. So, what was the plan?

Another rustle had you on edge, but a voice caught you off guard. “I smell human.”

“We can leave them alone,” Another boy’s voice said.        

“No. Humans may hurt Lupical.”

“I haven’t hurt your Lupical."

“But you are different human.”

“At least try to talk to them.”

Slowly, you moved out of the tent. In the bushes nearby, you saw a flash of silver followed by a loud “shush”. You raised an eyebrow, slowly moving toward it. You heart was in your throat, but you tried to swallow it. You wanted to be brave, but you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. Maybe your screams would wake up Diluc.

Against your better judgment, you moved the top of the bushes aside. Two pairs of eyes looked up at you, both boys younger than you were. One had green eyes and a set of goggles over his white hair. The other had spiky gray hair and red eyes with some kind of brown coat over the top. The three of you all stared at each other for a long time before the white-haired boy raised his hand and grinned. “Hey there!”

You jumped back, startled as they emerged from the bushes. The white-haired boy brushed off all the leaves, grimacing as he plucked a couple of Wolfhooks from his pant leg. The other boy didn’t seem to care at all as the leaves clung to his body. “Who are you?” You said.

“I’m Bennett,” The white-haired boy said. “This is Razor.”

Razor sniffed the air. “Second human. Nearby.”

“He’s sleeping,” You said. “Leave him be.”

Razor frowned but didn’t argue. “What are you two doing out here?” Bennett said.

“We were hoping to talk to the Wolf of the North.”

Razor’s eyes narrowed. “Wolf of North is hard to talk to. He will want fight.”

“We can handle that.”

“You seriously want to fight him?” Bennett said.

“If we have to,” You said, though the idea made you nervous. Was there really no other way to talk to him?

“I can talk to him,” Razor said. “Maybe he’ll listen.”

“You can talk to him?”

“He part of family,” Razor said. “Took me in.”

“Razor’s friends with the wolves,” Bennett said.

“Not friends,” Razor said. “Lupical.”

“Family,” Bennett said. Razor frowned again, but didn’t say anything.

“And you’re his…”

“Friend!” Bennett said as he put an arm over Razor. “He’s trying to get used to a human life, so I’m helping him out!”

“Well, that’s very nice of you,” You said politely. You weren’t quite sure how to feel about the two, but if they could introduce you to the Wolf, then maybe this was you and Diluc’s best chance.

“How long will friend sleep?” Razor said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Not long,” Diluc said as he joined you.

Bennett gasped. “It’s Master Diluc!” Diluc raised an eyebrow as Bennett rushed to shake his hand. “I’m a big fan! Not quite old enough to visit the bar but I’ve heard a lot about you! I’m a pyro user too.” He put his hand son his hips and puffed his chest out with pride.

“Is that so?” Diluc said. You fought the urge to laugh, glad that Bennett seemed oblivious to his deadpanned tone.

“Be nice,” You whispered. “They can take us to the Wolf.”

“So I heard.”

“You were supposed to be sleeping.”

He glanced at you with a look of amusement. “We have too much to do for that.”

“Wolf will not talk until evening,” Razor said.

“We have a campsite nearby with plenty of food and water.” Bennett said. “You’re welcome to stay.” After a moment, you both nodded and Bennett cheered. “All right!” He spun to Razor. “You know what that means!” Razor raised an eyebrow as Bennett jumped in place, spread his feet, and shot one fist into the air. “Benny’s adventure team assemble!”

You swore you heard the wind blow in the silence. Razor stared at him in confusion. You and Diluc exchanged glances. Bennett just sighed as he moped. “Or not.”

--------------       

The campsite was actually rather impressive. There were two large tents sitting across from each other with a fire pit between, and a third tent made of logs and sticks to the north. A stream ran beside the camp and there was plenty of food, both dried and freshly cooked. “Dig in,” Bennett said proudly. “Razor and I are going to scout out the area. Feel free to rest up. We’ll be back before nightfall. Promise.” He nudged Razor who jumped in surprise before nodding, following after him into the rest of Wolvendom. Diluc frowned, arms crossed again as he gazed over the campsite.

“Not bad,” You said as you peered into one of the tents. There were two sleeping bags laid out, but neither of them seemed like they had been slept in. When you glanced in the other tent, there was only one sleeping bag fully unzipped and surrounded by random items of clothing, an open bag, and other supplies. You wondered why there were so many open spots for only two people. It was like it was made for an entire team. “You can get a good rest.”

“I’d rather keep going,” Diluc said.

“What good are you going to do against the Abyss Order if you’re exhausted?”

“I’m fine.”

You scowled at him. “How much did you sleep last night?”

“Long enough.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie.”

Then, he yawned, but quickly tried to hide it. You laughed, gripping your chest as you tried not to double over. There was just something about him. Just something so absurd about the entire situation. You just couldn’t help yourself. “There’s plenty of space in there,” You said. “I can hang out here so you get some shut-eye.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Out here,” You said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. Again. You were quickly learning that was his favorite reaction to most anything you did. “There are two sleeping bags for a reason.”

“Yes but…”

“But nothing,” He said. “It’s more important that you rest.”

“I’m not the one at the front line of a fight.”

“But you take more energy to use your powers.”

“Why are you arguing with me?”

“Because you’re arguing with me.”

“You’re being difficult,” You said.

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“I suppose we are,” You huffed.

He sighed, but it wasn’t quite in frustration. “Come on.”

“I told you, you need…”

“We can share the same tent,” He said.

You stopped and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“We slept in the same spot last night.”

“Well yes, but that was a necessity.” It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share a space but… Did he? Really? Or was he just appeasing you? “Diluc…”

“Is being that close to me a problem?”

“No,” You said far too quickly. “I never said that.”

He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Then I don’t see an issue.”

You blushed as he took your hand, gently pulling you toward the tent. He ducked under it, sitting eloquently on one of the sleeping bags before you joined him on the other. “These are rather nice,” You said, rubbing your hand along the bag. The inside was nice and fuzzy, and you had no doubt it would be warm.

“Go to sleep,” He said.

“But you…” You trailed off as he immediately lay down, facing away from you on top of the sleeping bag with his hands under his head. You stared at him for a long time, debating if you should wait until you were certain he was asleep. Something felt wrong when you turned away. You had to swallow your heart again, but you could hear it pounding in your ears. Your mind wandered to what it would feel like to cuddle up to him instead of this sleeping bag. But you felt the heat spill over your cheeks and realized you were much warmer now than you were a few minutes ago. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore your body. Why now of all times? You hadn’t been able to regulate any temperature your entire life but now you were melting?

You heard a sigh, followed by a hand on your forehead. It took a moment before you realized he’d taken his glove off. “That’s better,” He said. “But you’re heating up the entire tent.”

“How are you not?”

“I keep it internal.”

“Lucky.”

“Unless I’m lost in thought.”

You sat up slowly, and your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close you were. If you leaned forward just a bit, your lips would be touching. That didn’t help your internal heating, nor did it help when he shed his gloves and felt your pulse. “What are you doing?”

“Trying not to pass out,” you muttered.

“Why would you pass out?”

“No reason,” You said. “Honestly I’m fine.” What a liar you were. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “So, what’s our plan with the Wolf?”

“Razor seems to have some experience with him,” Diluc said as he gathered up a water bottle from the corner. After he poured some out in his hand, he gently pressed his fingers to your forehead. “If we’re lucky, he’ll know where the Abyss Order is hiding out.”

“Razor said he’ll want to fight.”

“Then we’ll fight.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

“You think Bennett and Razor will help?”

“They don’t need to.” He closed the water bottle and set it aside. “Breathe.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. You felt the heat within you ease a bit. “Better.”

“How long did it take you to figure all of this out?”

He shrugged. “A few years.”

“That’s not very long.”

“I suppose not.”

You paused, contemplating. “Did your father teach you?”

“He wasn’t able to,” Diluc said.

“Never got a vision?”

“No.”

“My brother never did either,” You said as you could sense the mood shifting. “Caused some problems between us.”

“My father supported me,” Diluc said. “He encouraged me to join the Knights of Favonius.”

“Really?” You said, surprised. “I thought you hated them.”

“I don’t trust them,” He said. “But things weren’t always that way.”

“What happened?”

“When my father passed away, they wanted me to hide what happened,” Diluc said. “I didn’t agree with it and we went our separate ways.” He glanced down at his vision. “I even abandoned this, but Kaeya… he made sure I got it back.”

“You’d be different without it.”

“I did fine without it but… you’re not wrong.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Your temperature’s down.”

“Now you can sleep,” You said with an innocent smile. He rolled his eyes but went back to his sleeping bag. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

“Afternoon.”

“Same difference.”

[moon-ruled-rising]

hey y'all, as I'm dealing with a bit of... stuff... in all areas of my life and things are about to get very busy for me in the coming month, I thought I would offer a little something to tide everyone over until I can get this next update pounded out.

I found this little snippet while looking through some old notes for a class and doctored it up a little. It's from a very early version of as the rain hides the stars, one where Jon was King and Daenerys was more into playing coquette than just downright uninterested. This was one of the first 'scenes' that came to me, helped along by Lesley Gore's You Don't Own Me. It was later replaced by the greenhouse scene in Chapter 8.

Dany leaned against the railing of the balcony, a glass of something strong resting on the top, just within her reach, and a cigarette settled between her fingers. The red dress draped around her heated body caught on the summer breeze in flimsy streamers. The inner courtyard stretched below, its tall trees obscuring the lighted windows on the other side. Dany could just make out the passing figures of their esteemed guests as they floated by. Did anyone notice her departure? Or were they all so far into the champagne and social high to care about the aloof royal?

Someone knocked at the door before opening it. Dany grit her teeth, ready to chew out whoever dared to disturb her, then remembered who she expected.

“His Majesty, Jon of the House Stark, King in the North,” announced Ser Barristan, who had escorted the foreign monarch.

Dany didn’t speak until she heard the door close, turning her head only a fraction and taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, “Did you enjoy the party?”

By all standards of protocol she should’ve bowed but Dany, in all her Targaryen stubbornness, refused to let him think he had the upper hand.

In the dim room, the details of his face went unnoticed but his erect posture and even shoulders told her all she wanted to know. A king’s confidence and a prince’s charm.

“Isn’t this a breach in your southern decorum? Meeting with a suitor alone?”

A lithe smile spread over her face, “And what about your Northern honor, agreeing to meet me must break a few rules.”

Tapping the ash off, she came in from the balcony. The King’s face remained unmoved, though at a closer distance she saw the activity behind a pair of tumultuous eyes.

“If it makes you feel better, Ser Barristan is right outside the door.” She gestured lightly and moved to the seats around the extravagant mantle with an air of casual confidence.

“You’ve done this before, Your Highness?”

His question erred on the side of accusation but Dany let it roll like water off her back.

“Call me Daenerys, please. Your Highness sounds so… stuffy. And, to answer your question, yes. But never with a king.”

She gave him her infamous arched brow as she lowered to the upholstered armchair with all the grace she could manage in her well-fitted dress.

“You avoid me all evening, send your ladies to harass me and now you ask to meet me in a room, alone, to do what exactly?”

He came closer but still kept a wary distance. She couldn’t blame him- fire burned hot. His approach brought him further into the low light, highlighting his aristocratic cheekbones and distinct nose, the texture of his curls sculpted away from his face with precise care.

“I find it so hard to get to know someone with people around, watching me, formulating judgments in their little heads. Any idea why?”

“I’ve been told you have a bit of a reputation.”

“And I’ve spared you the worst of it. No need to have our new friends’ names sullied by association.”

“Thank the Gods for that,” he said but Dany picked up the sarcasm riddled throughout and had to keep from smiling.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t pay attention to gossip and rumors.”

“Hmm, perhaps you should, some of them are quite interesting.”

Dany knew of a few she personally planted, though it was a long time ago.

“Was marriage your idea?”

To switch topics so abruptly was a little desperate but the question had burned in her mind and she couldn’t shake it.

This brought a chuckle out of her curious guest, “No. Rhaegar thought it up.”

“You don’t seem too thrilled by the notion either.”

“For the same reason I’m meeting you in a secluded sitting room.”

This time he did sit, as Dany took a drag from her cigarette to hide her impression of his witty remark. She was keenly aware of the King’s eyes watching her nasty habit, so she picked up the fancy silver case that belonged to her grandmother, and her great-grandmother before that.

“Do you smoke, Your Majesty?”

“Not usually,” he said, but leaned forward to take one anyway and she offered the matching lighter as well.

“Why does your country need our help?”

“In the words of my House, winter is coming. I won’t get into the science but it looks like we don’t have the resources to survive this one without catastrophe. It’s my duty to ensure the safety of my people, even if this is the only way.”

Dany nodded, letting his brief but impactful words wash over her.

“What’s it like? In the North?”

“It’s beautiful-”

“I figured as much-”

“Especially in the winter. It almost makes you believe magic is real.”

Dany scoffed, red lips curling into a characteristic smirk, and the King shot her a look, obviously miffed at her laughter but he continued anyway.

“You’ll understand when you see it.”

“Who says I will? As far as the marriage contract is concerned I have the final say.”

A lie. A small bluff to keep herself above it all, hoping that this King was like her brother and left the heavy lifting to a committee.

The King scoffed that time, “Liar. The negotiations for this treaty are personal, happening between Rhaegar and me and no one else.”

He leaned back against the settee, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and considering her carefully. And Dany did a poor job at concealing her displeasure, stabbing the butt into the ashtray.

“Anything else you’d like to know, Your Highness?”

“How much longer are you staying in the palace?”

“A few more days, just until the treaty is finalized and we decide on a match for the marriage pact.”

That caught her attention, “I’m sorry. Decide?”

“Did Rhaegar not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re not the only candidate. With my position and the weight behind your family, we thought it best to keep the options open.”

Dany’s chest burned with his revelation, the heat spreading through her neck and face. She broke a crystal glass and raged through the hall over a half-truth, Elia probably laughed her ass off when she left Dany’s room.

Her brash confidence refused to release his eye contact, “Of course he did. But I assumed I was the best one on the list.”

“I’d certainly like you to be.”